Warrior
by DragonHunter88
Summary: A broken man, a shattered sword. Everything Aedan thought he knew is tested, broken, and reforged within the fires of war. A retelling of the Origins plotline parallel to the story of Aedan's past. Two concurrent stories which play off of each other both thematically and plotwise., focusing on character development of the main character.
1. Calm

**Part 1: Heroes**

_Chapter 1: Calm_

One step.

It took all Aedan had for that.

As he took that one step, his body shook in pain. 'Broken' did not describe it. All his shattered ribs ached. Too much blood seeped out of his battered armor.

His fellow warden, bloodied and barely conscious, crawled on the floor. His hand outstretched as he silently screamed 'No'.

None of that mattered. Aedan just had to finish this. Then he could go home.

One deep breath.

Warm blood swirled in his mouth. Swallowing shot spasms of pain through his throat, hoarse from shouting orders. But Aedan savored this one serene moment before the end of it all. Even though his ears rang from the screams and clashing of steel, even though his body screamed for him to lay down, even though his world had gone to chaos, for once his head felt clear.

The crippled archdemon roared from the floor. The monster could only sit and watch Aedan's approach, for it's wings had been torn apart, and it's body filled with swords and arrows. The blast of it's roar threw bloodied corpses clear off the tower. The wind rushed against Aedan, and he leaned on his sword to withstand it's force.

Aedan's shield clattered on the ground. He raised his sword with both hands. The glint of it's point shone above the archdemon's head.

One thrust.

* * *

><p>"Nan, can I have some more meat?" Aedan sputtered through a stuffed mouth. Gregory, his trusty Marbari hound, made a similar request, panting at the plate of meat Nan had.<p>

"Maker," laughed Nan, "how do you put away all that food?" Nan whipped her wooden spoon at Aedan's elbows; when not in front of others, the young man tended to forget some manners, including not leaning on the table whilst eating. Aedan scowled and sat up straighter and lifted his arms off the wooden surface.

"Dunno, I'm a growing man I guess. Had a good training session today." Aedan took another bowl of stew. He inhaled the familiar hearty vapors as he brought the spoon to his mouth and smiled at the nostalgic smell.

"To me you're still that little boy running through the courtyard, crying over a boo boo," chuckled Nan.

"I'm plenty man enough now. That Duncan came by and even said I'd be a great Grey Warden."

"A man who can't even cook his own meals? Or wash his own stuff? Perhaps I should let this man take care of himself?"

"Sorry sorry sorry please keep feeding me," laughed Aedan, whilst Nan chuckled alongside him. She took one of Aedan's plates from him and washed it in the sink. A layer of bubbles began to rise and her engulfed her wrinkled hands.

"But did Duncan really say that?" The dishes clattered as Nan stacked them up one by one. The grand dinner between Teyrn Bryce Cousland, his good friend Arl Howe, and one of the famous Grey Warden's, Duncan, had an equal and opposite grand cleanup. While the nobles stood outside in the courtyard wining and dining, the

"Yes, but Father refused to let him even consider it," said Aedan.

Despite her back being turned on Aedan, Nan still conversed whilst cleaning."Well, being a Grey Warden is dangerous."

"But I'd get to be a hero! Save damsels, fight evil, defeat the archdemon." Aedan's fork swished through the air as he fought off imaginary darkspawn. His calloused hands spun the fork between his fingers, until he made one final thrust into his chicken.

"Like you'd ever be marching on an archdemon. It takes a good half hour to get you out of bed."

"Because it's the same thing over and over! Mother has some fancy friend over, Father and Brother are out meeting the nobles or hunting, and I'm just...here. Is that all life is for me? Second son of a noble, grow old, get fat, listen to boring politicians yammer on?" Aedan leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"Aren't you the one who's good with the politicians?"asked Nan as she took Aedan's last plate.

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Silence filled the room as Nan continued scrubbing the dishes. She glanced over at Aedan. His brow was furrowed deep. His eyes were elsewhere, yet still focused on the flickering flame of the candle. She couldn't decide if it was serenity or discontent.

For a noble, he certainly did not act like one. He wore baggy loose clothing around the castle, and would have none of the fine Orlesian silks that his sister-in-law Oriana would try and put on him. The servants and him had an amicable relationship- he treated them like a second family: they played sports, told jokes, and occasionally even ate together. Perhaps it was because recent years had forced Aedan to remain within the castle confines more and more. His father, away on business, and his brother, preparing to take the Teyrn's seat, were seen rarely.

The youngest Cousland, despite what Nan teased, was growing into a fine man. Twenty-four years old with a faint stubble covering his face, his brown eyes were known for being equally bright and at other times harsh and piercing. She tousled his short black hair and smiled. Despite how much older he looked, he really was to her the same little boy, gleaming with hope.

Nan said to him, "You say all that- but the thing is Aedan, the choice is yours. You could walk out of the castle, go become an adventurer, pillager of villages, hero of cities, or just a wandering vagabond, but every morning you wake up and choose to stay here, because you love this place and love your family. You've had your fair share of trouble, and you know that this is where you belong."

Nan stacked the dishes, stretched her arms and yawned. Before she left, she pinched Aedan's cheek and chuckled, "Why do you think I'm still here? The pay?"

* * *

><p><em>"Father, why can't I come on the hunt?" yawned the seven year old boy in his pajamas. Aedan rubbed his eyes, leaning on his practice sword to keep his tired body up.<em>

_The youngest Cousland had always been a rambunctious child: always dreaming up adventures and playing hero in the castle. However, Aedan could never quite defeat the insurmountable monster known as the early morning. The young child loved to sleep, even sneaking off during lessons to nap._

_"Oh, pup, you know why," said Bryce Cousland, tousling his son's bed-head. _

_"But Fergus gets to go," whined Aedan, rubbing his eyes again. Indeed, Fergus, Aedan's elder by eight years, had mounted his own horse. From a distance Aedan always had to watch his brother recieve swordsman lessons and horse riding training. Fergus stuck his tongue out at his brother, out of sight from their father. _

_Today Arl Howe joined the hunt. He and Bryce shared a long friendship. As a seven year old, Aedan always appreciated when Uncle Howe always brought him new toys. Despite his sleep addled state, Aedan still looked forward to whatever the Arl brought today._

_"You're too fierce little one! The world's not ready for you!" roared his father. With a slap of the reins, the three men set off on their horses. __Aedan watched alone as his father and his hunting party rode off into the woods, waiting until he could no longer see their figures until he returned inside._

_His father had bought something from Denerim for his birthday- a training dummy, with spinning pegs and made of the sturdiest wood. __With all his strength, Aedan flung his sword against the dummy._

_The peg swung around back to hit him in the face._

* * *

><p>The sky faded into orange, and the crowds began to thin out. The sheer amount of attendees had not surprised Aedan. Castle Cousland had actively advertised the dinner in honor of the Grey Wardens. The nobles celebrated with more gusto and frivolity than ever before. Aedan theorized that even they, up in the north, feared the oncoming Blight in the south. Tense smiles were plastered on their faces and everyone laughed oddly and too much.<p>

Political events hosted by the Couslands, a rather prestigous noble family second only to the King's, came in different venues. The standard wine and dine happened most often. Teryn Cousland would invite a good twenty to thirty people to discuss the state of the Teynir. In actuality, most people just came to vent their problems regarding the region. Other times they hosted grand feasts, often times around the holidays. Aedan didn't hate it completely. Besides the people, the topics, the setting, the ass-kissing, the pandering, and most everything, Aedan always enjoyed the little food trays Nan put out, particularly the smoked venison.

Tonight's dinner hadn't been any different. At the official dinner table, Aedan had been forced by his parent to cut down on his food intake, as to be more 'becoming'. Nobles flocked to his father, making roundabout offers in exchange for extra troops to protect them. Those who already had sizeable armies made offers of said troops in exchange for political leverage. Nothing but flattery had been aimed towards the Grey Warden tonight, Duncan.

Duncan seemed every bit the part of a Grey Warden: wise, combat-experienced, and brave. These were the men and women who would save the world from the Blight. He hadn't even taken off his armor when dining; granted, twas only leather, but it seemed rather strange a custom. Perhaps he always needed to be ready.

Aedan stepped into the courtyard. There his scratched and battered training dummy awaited him. He took a few moments to readjust the nails and bolts that held it together.

His lungs filled with air. Aedan took two steps backwards. His body relaxed.

And he was ready.

With a swift toss Aedan's sword flew into the air. His arm arced out, grabbing the sword. In one quick motion he struck the first peg. Almost instantly the opposing end came to hit him, but it rang against the steel of Aedan's shield. A kick sent the lower pegs spinning. A blur of spinning pegs was before him. Aedan's eyes tracked the whirls with hawk-like precision. Aedan jumped, struck, ducked, and he too became a blur. Whatever strike his sword made, his shield was always up and defending. His body flowed around the dummy, barraging it from all angles: striking top, bottom, middle, then again, chaining his moves into a vicious cycle of metal.

One final strike from Aedan split right through the dummy, sending it's remnants flying. He smirked. He need a new one anyways.

"Bravo son," remarked his father, "didn't think you'd run through the steel one we ordered from Orzammar so quickly."

The broken steel frame lay shattered on the ground. The two Cousland men stared at it for a brief moment while Aedan caught his breath. Training had been a daily ritual of Aedan's for a long time. An wise, rather cantankerous, old elf had once beat into him- always train, for you'll never know when you need it.

"Even if I was as young as you, I could never dream of matching up to what you do here," complimented Bryce, who patted Aedan on the back. Before Aedan could speak, his father said, "I know what you're going to want to say. You want to go off and be a Grey Warden."

Just as Aedan was about to open his mouth, his father whacked him square on the back. "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to say no to that."

Bryce's hand was brushed aside as Aedan said, "And why not father? Why can't I go and serve my countrymen? Why can't I once be on the front lines and be a hero, instead of just wasting my life away here?"

Immediately after he said that, Aedan saw the sad look on his father's face. His own face dropped as well.

"Sorry father, I just..."

Bryce sat his son down on the nearby bench and put his arm around him.

"Son, both your brother and I will be at Ostagar. Cailan tells us the battle will be a roaring success and that we will push back the darkspawn. One united army, defending our great nation," Bryce stated, true belief in his eyes.

"But if the battle doesn't go well, we need someone to protect our family, our legacy. We need someone to keep Oriana, Oren, and your mother safe. I know you want to do something great and go be a hero instead of sitting here. But what good are you even as a man if you can't even protect the people near you?"

Bryce and Aedan looked at each other. After the briefest moment, both smiled and got up. No words were needed. Bryce put both hands on Aedan's shoulders.

"One recruit amidst the entire army of Ferelden won't make a difference. One man defending his family can," said Bryce, patting his son on the back and walking both of them back to the living quarters.

"Come on Father, you're telling me that this battle wouldn't succeed without someone like the Hero of River Dane?" replied Aedan.

"Ha, Loghain! A good man with a demeanor that would kill puppies with one look. Ask him yourself next time we go to meet the nobles- he doesn't even like the title."

Bryce waved his son good night and turned the corner to his room.

The dark of the night had fallen. The stars in the sky were as clear and bright as polished steel. The moon draped it's gentle beams across the courtyard and it's surroundings: the rustic stone wall whose rough vines he used to climb, the crooked steps where he and his brother played tag, and the bench where his mother used to sing him lullabies.

Aedan stood and smiled. He thought to himself, _Well...no place like home._

* * *

><p><em>Hey, this is my first piece here. Looking to improve my writing, so reviews and constructive criticism welcome.<em>


	2. Storm

**Part 1: Heroes**

_Chapter 2: Storm_

One hour ago, she panted and moaned his name, her warm body pressed up against his.

Now, Iona's blood trickled through the cracks of the stone floor as. Her lifeless stared into the distance.

Aedan's hand grasped for the sword by his bed and he rolled out of the way of an incoming blow. Gregory mauled the other soldier while Aedan went low and cut at his attacker's legs. The man fell to the ground and cursed, "Kill this son of a bitch!"

Three more attackers charged in. Aedan's pommel crashed against the man's chin, knocking him out. Gregory lunged at the archer while Aedan smashed his fist into the face of the third guard. The guard's nose made a sickening crack as blood flew out. The man stumbled to the ground, where a swift kick from Aedan sent him reeling.

As one guard struggled to regain his bearings, Aedan kneeled down next to Iona. His lips wavered as he thought of something to say. ""I'm so sorry," he whispered. His bloodied fingers closed her eyes for the final time. The guard had gotten up, and saw Aedan's back turned to him. With a roar he made one final lunge, but Aedan whirled around and slammed the man's head into the ground. His fingers held the man's face like a vice.

"Who sent you?" panted Aedan, but the man had passed out. The man's shield caught Aedan's eye. The world stopped. Howe's crest. His eyes darted to the other men's equipment. Howe's crest, Howe's crest, Howe's crest. It couldn't be.

"No no no no no."The wall shook as Aedan smashed the shield against it. He looked again. The crest remained. He clawed at the front, hoping that it would scrape away to reveal something else, anything else. It still remained.

"NO!" he screamed, and threw the shield against the floor.

* * *

><p><em>"I'm gonna get you! The bedtime monster is gonna get you!" laughed Howe as he chased after Aedan.<em>

_"Stop Uncle Howe!" giggled the little Aedan, who leaped up to grab the top of the courtyard wall. He made the jump, but his fingers started slipping. _

_"I'm gonna eat you up!" growled Howe in a deep voice, stomping towards him. Aedan gulped as his finger gave way. His eyes shut in anticipation of the painful impact, but he opened them to find Howe had caught him._

_"Aren't you going to slay the monster?" said Howe, a smile on his face._

_"I don't wanna kill anyone," replied Aedan, who hugged the grizzled man around the neck, "Even the big bad monster."_

_"Well Aedan," muttered Howe grimly as Aedan dozed off, "some people just need killing."_

* * *

><p>"Aedan!" His mother Eleanor burst through the door. Blood dripped from a dagger by her side. Her usually neat hair now lay undone.<p>

"Mother- are you all right- you're bleeding!" Aedan exclaimed. He squeezed his mother and buried his face in her hair. His heart calmed, a little bit of worry relieved. He released her and check up and down for wounds.

"Don't worry about me. I am no Orlesian wallflower," Eleanor said. Her head turned in every which angle, whilst her eyes frantically searched. "Where's your father?" she cried, "who did this?"

"These are Howe's men- all of them," Aedan growled, "why the hell would he do this?"

"Maybe they are, maybe they aren't, it doesn't matter right now," Eleanor muttered, "what matters now is finding our family and getting out of here." She picked up one of the guard's bows and strapped in a quiver on her back.

And it dawned on Aedan. His feet clattered against stone as he scrambled down the hallway. _Please no_, he thought as his finger pushed against the door. _Not them_.

Aedan nearly threw up when he saw them: Oriana and Oren, lying in a pool of blood. The attackers must have gone to their room first. His knees buckled to the ground. He crawled to their dead bodies, his heart pouding. His fingers fumbled for Oren's, squeezing the cold flesh till it hurt himself. "He was eight," he seethed through his teeth. The sounds of footsteps approached, and Eleanor rounded the corner.

"Aedan, I- oh."

It took a moment for her to process it, but his mother too fell to the floor, tears welling up.

"No...my little Oren," she sobbed, clutching his body close. Aedan watched Oren's lifeless eyes as his mother held him. Never again would the young boy look up at him and ask him to tell him stories. Oriana's body lay next to Oren. Bloody stabs littered her back, a testament to her last act of motherhood. Hoarse battle cries rang across what seemed to Aedan to be an abyss.

"Mother, we need to go." His throat had closed up, and Aedan struggled to push out even those few simple words. His mother didn't answer. She still kneeled on the floor. She rocked Oren's body in his arms. Frantic whispers escaped her tight-lipped mouth. Aedan placed his hand on her shoulder. His breathing tightened more and more, his fist clenched, and he gritted his teeth: all to hold back his hot tears. He'd save his tears for when his family was avenged.

"Mother," Aedan croaked.

"Let's go," said Eleanor. She lay Oren's body down, and draped his mother's arms around him. Aedan held his mother's shoulder as he led her out of the room, her face buried in her hands. They didn't look back. The smell of fire filled their lungs as they approached the main chambers. Aedan peeked around the corner to see Howe's guards swarming the hallway. He turned back to his mother and beckoned her and his dog closer.

"Mother, we may want to try and avoid fighting. We can't risk alerting more guards to us."

"There's an old way out in the cellar- maybe that's where your father is!" said Eleanor. Aedan nodded. His father was quick thinker, and had confidence in his family to get to the best escape route. The three dashed across the hallway whilst two guards had their backs turned.

"Wait, Aedan, the family armaments." Eleanor tugged on Aedan's sleeve. "We can't let Howe get ahold of those."

"Having decent equipment would certainly help," Aedan said. Aedan's old practice sword and shield wouldn't cut it against real weapons.

* * *

><p><em>"Father," said Fergus, "will I ever get to use the family sword?"<em>

_"I hope not," smiled Bryce, "or at least I die the day before the peace we have with the Orlesians is shattered." The glint of the sword shone in the five year old Aedan's eye, and he squinted them shut. Bryce gently polished the sword in circles with his rag._

_Most of the time the sword sat in the family vault, along with all their other treasures. It seemed a pity to the young Aedan that such a majestic weapon stay locked up. Swords were meant to slay monsters, not collect dust atop a mantle._

_"But a sword's for fighting!" laughed Fergus, who snatched up the sword and swung it it a clumsy arc. Aedan wondered when he would be strong enough to swing the sword._

_"Boys, let me tell you about this sword," said Bryce, who snatched the hilt from Fergus. The aged hilt caught Aedan's eye. Unlike so many of the fancy Orlesian swords he had seen nobles carrying around, the hilt's simple structure, yet with the tiniest engravings for flair, seemed to him more practical._

_"Dear maker not this again," groaned Fergus._

_"Yes this again." Bryce pulled Fergus by the ear and sat the yelping boy down next to Aedan._

_"Boys, this sword served our ancestors at the Battle of Lake Calenhad, at the very founding of our nation. This sword served me well when we freed ourselves of the Orlesians. It is a weapon meant for establishing peace- not for warmongering. __And I will be damned if all that we fought to protect just eventually falls to war again."_

* * *

><p>Aedan swam in a sea of blades and blood, wading through it with the family sword. "Come get some!" he screamed at the guards attacking Ser Gilmore. Gilmore collapsed to the floor a bloody mess. Five swords swung down upon Aedan. He winced as two winged him, but he rolled out of the way of the others. Blood spattered on his face and an arrow-riddled guard fell behind him. Aedan slashed the legs of the surrounding guards, who promptly fell to the floor screaming.<p>

Pain shot through his arm as his fingers were chilled. The nearby mage had frozen his sword, and his fingers stuck to the hilt. Aedan threw his shield at the mage's face, smashing it in and knocking her down. He grimaced in pain as he pulled his hand off the hilt, his skin sticking to the cold metal.

"Go!" shouted Gilmore, who tackled another guard to the ground. Aedan, his mother, and his dog sprinted out of the room, rushing past unsuspecting guards and into the kitchen. As he ran in, his foot hit something soft. Aedan's heart dropped. He didn't want to look down, but he had to know. His eyes saw the knife first. Nan's kitchen knife. _Thank god_, he thought. "Nan," he cried out, "where are-" Then he saw the face. Everything stopped. He couldn't feel the heat of the raging fires. The shouts of his mother. The footsteps approaching. He kneeled down and withdrew the knife from Nan's chest, pocketing it in his belt. He closed her eyes. Aedan lingered for a moment, then planted a kiss on her forehead. He couldn't say anything. If he spoke now, he'd break down crying. He couldn't afford that. Not now.

"There you both are," groaned Bryce as he and his mother stumbled in, "I was wondering when you'd make it."

"Maker's blood, you're bleeding..." cried his mother, who rushed to her husband side to help him.

"Howe's men...found me first...almost did me in right there. He can't...get away with this...the king will-" Bryce keeled over in pain. His hand slipped in his own blood, and his face fell to the floor.

"Bryce, we have to get you out of here," said Eleanor. Her once restrained tears now flowed freely.

"I won't survive the standing I think," Bryce gasped through blood.

"That's not true, you'll be fine!" pleaded Aedan. He grabbed his father by the shoulders to steady him. His father gurgled in pain. Blood spilled from his mouth. Aedan and his father shared a look. They both knew he wouldn't be fine.

"Someone must reach Fergus- tell him what has happened," Bryce said resolutely.

"Once Howe's men break through the gates, they will find us. We have to go!" cried Eleanor, who held Bryce in her arms, desperately trying to bandage his wounds.

"The castle is surrounded...I cannot make it."

"I'm afraid the teryn is correct," came a voice from behind Aedan. Nerves frayed, Aedan whipped his sword around at the intruder. Duncan stared back at the sword in his face. He had strange veneer of calm about him. Aedan's breathing softened, and he lowered his sword.

"Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit, but they have the castle surrounded- getting past will be difficult," said Duncan.

"You are Duncan, yes? The grey Warden?", inquired Eleanor, still a little startled from his sudden entrance.

"Yes, that is correct. You husband and I tried to reach you."

"You are under no obligation to me Duncan, but I beg you, see my family to safety," pleaded Bryce through ragged breaths.

"I will your lordship," said Duncan, "but in return I must ask something of you."

"Anything,"coughed Bryce.

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the greater evil brewing in the south. "

Bryce nodded. "The blight," he said," And you need a recruit. My son." He groaned in pain, then whispered, "You have my blessing."

Aedan looked at his father, who put his bloodied hand on his son's shoulder and nodded. With heavy heart, Aedan said, "I accept."

His voice hoarse, Bryce whispered, "Aedan...do you remember...what I said? How one recruit couldn't make a difference?" Bryce tugged on Aedan's shoulder, bringing Aedan's ear to his mouth. "One man can though."

"We need to go," said Duncan, who tugged on Aedan's arms. Aedan gave a lingering look to his parents. "I love you both so much," he whispered, hugging both of them for the last time. Having to release them cut deeper than any arrow or sword. He turned away, and crawled into the passage that lead to the escape route.

"Let's go," he muttered to Duncan, holding back the wave of emotions that threatened to consume him. The two sprinted through the secret pasageway. The moon shone through the exit. The two barreled out of the tunnel, only to find themselves in the middle of several guards.

"Hey!" One guard swung his mace down at Aedan. His shield was over on the ground, so Aedan took his sword in both hands and swung to counter. The old metal, made brittle by the mage, stood no chance against the force of the mace. The shattered pieces of the family sword rained down upon Aedan. He was knocked to the side, landing on the shards of the sword. Aedan howled in pain as the shards sunk deep into his flesh. Cold wet rain trickled down his face as heard the squish of footsteps in the grass approach. Out of the corner of his eyes, Aedan saw the guard raise his mace for one final blow. Aedan had no time to think- his fingers fumbled for something, anything. He felt the wet wooden handle of Nan's knife in his belt.

_Nan smiling, her wrinkled hands on his tiny ones as she showed him how to chop onions. She held his hand tight, laughing as Aedan started to tear up._

_"Those are some mighty frightful onions," she laughed._

_"I'm not crying," said Aedan, "real men don't cry." The little boy wiped away the tiny droplets at the corner of his eyes._

He raised the knife above his head.

_The smell of curried chicken and potatoes._

His fist clenched around the handle, digging into the splinters and drawing blood.

_His family, sitting around a table, eating together. Oren asleep in Oriana's lap. Fergus and him struggling for the last chicken. His parent bickering over who would walk Gregory. Nan laughing as the chicken fell off the table amidst the family struggle. _

The knife throttled through the air. Blood spewed forth from the guard's throat. The man gurgled for a second, reaching his hand out before falling over. Aedan crawled over the man's body, feeling for his knife amidst the pool of wet blood. He pocketed it in his belt, then collapsed to the ground. His hand held tight to the hilt of his broken sword as his vision blurred. It took a few moments for him to realize the gravity of what had just happened.

Aedan had just killed for the first time.

He was still shaken as Duncan pulled him up from the ground. The two limped over into the forest. The shroud of leaves and darkness enveloped them. Aedan shut his eyes, for the burning light behind reminded him that everything that once was, now burned.


	3. Wounds

**Part 1: Heroes**

_Chapter 3: Wounds  
><em>

"We're almost there."

The sunrise peeked over the horizon, basking Duncan and Aedan in it's golden rays. While the two had made their way south from Highever, the weather had become much more favorable. Since then, the sun had fallen and risen ten times. To Aedan, it felt like one never ending nightmare, as though the very sun mocked him. Whilst the caravan came upon a particularly bumpy path, the clatter of the Cousland blade's shards rang through the silence. After removing them from his arm, Duncan had gathered them in a small pouch for Aedan, who had insisted on keeping them. The young noble clung to the bag, for it was all he had left of his family.

"Thank you," murmured Aedan.

"What?" The young man's response took Duncan aback. Aedan had not spoken for the entire ride. Duncan had sat across from him, telling him of the danger and battle ahead. More surprising to him was Aedan's lack of emotions. He didn't cry, smile, or curse. He simply sat. Even when Duncan had pulled the jagged shards out of Aedan's arm, the young man only grunted. Aedan simply stared forward with empty eyes like a dead fish.

"If not for you, I never would have gotten out of there." He rubbed the fresh wounds on his arm and winced. It still hadn't healed. The bandages felt slick with his own blood.

"You are welcome," stated Duncan. In silence, Aedan began to change the scarlet stained bandages around his right arm. Peering over, Duncan saw that the arm's condition remained the same; it still resembled mince meat. Once Aedan wrapped a fresh set of bandages, he asked, "Talk more about the Grey Wardens."

"Are you sure? I've been talking your ear off-"

"Please." Aedan buried his head in his arms. "It helps."

* * *

><p>"<em>Tell me more about the Grey Wardens!" said Oren, tugging on Aedan's sleeve.<em>

"_And why can't you have your father do this?"_

"_Because he's not at good at telling stories as you," complained Oren._

"_Doubt it," shouted Fergus as he and his wife returned drunk from a noble's feast. Aedan had taken it upon himself to look over Oren whilst the couple was gone. The little 4 year old had grown on him in the past few months, and the two always spent time together whilst Fergus was away on noble affairs._

"_Well, they're strong enough to smash steel with their bare fists. They're so quick that they could steal food from the pantry without Nan noticing," said Aedan, rolling across the room, then jumping up onto the end of Oren's bed._

"_Doubt it," shouted Nan as she passed by with the laundry._

"_They're so smart- they could trick a noble into giving them the clothes off their back...and paying them for it."_

_Oren looked up at Aedan and asked, "So they're heroes?"_

_Aedan grinned like a kid and ruffled Oren's head. "You bet your sorry ass they are."_

* * *

><p>"Young man."<p>

A tap on his shoulder. Aedan gazed upwards to find an aged woman. She was about as old as his mother, perhaps a little older. Looking at her green robes and staff, Aedan assumed she was a mage. Her white hair was pulled back and neatly bound, making her cross expression more apparent.

"You're sitting on my trunk."

Still weary, Aedan couldn't quite make out what she said."What?"

"You're sitting on my trunk," she spoke a little louder.

"Oh- sorry," muttered Aedan as he shot up. He winced as his arm collided with the nearby tree.

"Here dear, let me have a look at that," said the woman, "I'm quite the healer." She unwrapped the bandages, making a sour face at the minced flesh that was Aedan's arm."Dear Maker, what happened here? Looks like a butcher shop." She scrunched her nose. "Smells like one too."

"Sword shards." Aedan held up the bag and jingled them. A faint light shone forth from the woman's hands as she ran them down his arm. If there were ever a stranger sensation, Aedan couldn't think of one. It tickled, it sent shivers down his spine, it felt like like liquid warmth sprouted and danced in his wounds.

"Are you Duncan's new recruit?"

"How'd you know?"

"You wardens have a certain demeanor about them," she said, the light fading from her hands, "Like you're carrying some insurmountable burden."

"Well, really the only thing we have to do is end the blight. I think the warden's you met were all just moody," joked Aedan. The most he could do right now was hide his mourning.

"In that case, what about you?" smiled the woman.

Aedan's gaze shifted away as he avoided answering. "Thank you very much," he muttered.

"Good luck on the battlefield," she said, patting him once on the back and motioning to leave.

"Lady, I can tell you one thing- I'm fresh out of luck," he said to her turned back.

The woman paused and looked back at him."Who knows young man?" she said "Perhaps today's your lucky day. All you need to do-"

She gently lifted his chin up and smiled at him.

"-is look up."

* * *

><p>Lines of weary soldiers waited in line for their rations, with Aedan behind them. Although not the main army encampment, still too many soldiers crowded the area. Several units sat together and ate lunch, as they tried to lighten the mood with jokes. Aedan leaned against a tree, chewing his dry rations as he surveyed for the Grey Warden Duncan had asked him to find. Would he be ten feet tall, wielding a sword the size of his body? Or perhaps a knight wielding the heaviest of armor, penetrable by no one?<p>

All he saw were weary, frightened soldiers. Then again, he wasn't that different right now. His mind was ascatter. The memories of that dark night made Aedan grip his fork tight. His mind replayed those events over and over again in his mind. If he had been quicker, stronger, smarter-

Aedan shook his head, shaking away his doubts. This wasn't the time. He could mourn later. There were things to be done. Darkspawn to kill. Justice to be had. An image flashed in Aedan's mind of Howe's limp body hung by a rope. The king had just that promise when he had met him in the camp. All Aedan just needed to survive this ordeal. Then his family would have justice.

Aedan chewed slowly on his rations, swallowing without tasting. His stomach growled at the food's lack of substance. Aedan missed Nan's cooking.

* * *

><p>After sometime, Aedan found the man that Duncan had asked him to find, pestering a mage. A scruffy looking man, by any definition- undone hair with what looked to be dirt in it, a light shadow on his face, but a grin that stretched across it. A mage stomped away, giving Alistair a dirty look as he departed.<p>

"You know, one thing I love about the Blight is how it brings people together," chuckled the knight as Aedan approached.

It was a terrible, inappropriate joke with no punchline. Aedan didn't know why he still chuckled though. It had been the first time in awhile that he had laughed. Perhaps he needed a terrible joke.

"Like a tea party?" he replied with tentative grin.

"Yes!" said the templar, "like we could all stand in a circle and hold hands."

The two men chuckled and shook hands.

"I'm Alistair."

"Aedan."

"You're the first person whose laughed at any of my jokes- everybody else here has a rod up their ass," sighed Alistair, "Mages have two."

"Duncan told me to come and get you."

"Oh right, right, I'm supposed to go with you recruits through the joining. Ah bother," said Alistair, fumbling for a piece of paper, "I put in on a map, so I'll meet up with you in a half hour. Think I left the map where I ate lunch."

As Alistair searched for his map, Aedan decided to take a look around. After chatting briefly with several Chasind warriors, he came upon a tent with the signia of Gwaren.

"Is this...Loghain's tent?" he asked the guard.

"Indeed," came the terse reply.

"So is he in there?"

"Indeed." The guard scowled at Aedan's pestering. Still relenting, Aedan asked, "Can I see him?"

The guard glared at him with annoyance. "No."

"But I've got a message for him, very urgent," lied Aedan.

The man outside groaned, pushing aside the flaps of Loghain's tent. Shortly after, the Teryn emerged.

"Yes what is it? What's the message?" replied the teryn. His eyes sagged from lack of sleep, for he had been up all night drafting plans. His forehead wrinkled in anticipation of the message- most likely something that would just piss him off.

"I lied. I just wanted to meet you." Aedan scratched his brow sheepishly, "To be honest sir, you're sort of a hero figure to me."

"Really," said Loghain dryly. He raised his eyebrows skeptically at Aedan's admiration.

"Read your analysis of the strategies used at the Battle of Blue Hills, and several others sir."

Loghain grunted with approval, then said, "I feel as though I've seen you before."

"Aedan Cousland." The last word tapered off quietly.

"Ah. I was informed of what happened by Cailan. My condolences."

Aedan tried his best to change the subject. "Plenty to keep me busy now. Blight and all."

"Honestly, I don't see what Cailan's fascination with your order is all about. What makes the wardens so special? A title, that is all. Slap on the word "warden" and suddenly you've got a big damn hero. I know plenty of men that are just as deadly as any of you wardens"

"Coming from the hero of River Dane?"

"You see, I earned that. You've got to earn your place in this world if you want it to mean something."

"Whose to say they haven't earned the title of Wardens?" retorted Aedan.

"To a certain extent, certainly they have," admitted Loghain, "They've shown that they've got skill, strength, cunning. But that isn't enough to lean on, and certainly not enough for me to rest this entire battle upon."

"So what, else do they need?"

"What?"

"You're the Hero of River Dane. You probably know what we're missing."

Loghain at first couldn't decide if the boy was mocking him or actually serious. But he took a look at the young man, who leaned forward expectantly. "Boy, if I could answer that, this country would be in far better shape, and wouldn't even have to be dealing with this damn blight."

Aedan saw Duncan waving towards him, and bowed goodbye to the Teryn.

"Actually, one thing," remarked Loghain. Aedan stopped and faced the Teyrn. Loghain had the words on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't quite vocalize it. Finallly, he said,"There are too many airheads in this world, Cailan, Wardens, most of the Landsmeet. Never forgot the soil that you grew from, boy. Keeps you grounded and strong."

* * *

><p>"And here are the other two recruits."<p>

Ser Jory and Ser Daveth were certainly not what Aedan had expected. Daveth's eyes darted to and for from one woman's behind to another, twirling a knife between his dextrous hands. He had the demeanor of a thief about him, his body naturally shifting towards the shadows. However, to Aedan he didn't seem quite combat capable- his body was thin and a little worn, perhaps from lack of food over the years.

Ser Jory on the other hand, what he had in muscle and brawn, he lacked in both bravado and hair. He shuffled his foot against the ground anxiously, waiting upon Duncan's command. He reminded Aedan of one of his uncle's: nervous, but caring. Skilled in combat, but without the stones to use it.

Were these all the Grey Warden's had?

A frightening though came to Aedan's head. Was this all he was? Just like the two recruits in front of him- scared, weak, mortal?

"Nice to meet you two, my name is Aedan C-" greeted Aedan, who paused before his last name."Just Aedan."

"Well met," replied Jory. Daveth grunted in reply as he found another woman to stare lecherously at. Jory groaned and elbowed his fellow recruit.

"Ah yes, well met and all that other stuff," muttered Daveth, shaking Aedan's hand quickly, before turning his gaze away.

* * *

><p><em>"Brother!" said Fergus. The man released his hug on Oren to greet Aedan with open arms. The two embraced, giving each other a hearty pat on the back.<em>

_"So, heading to Ostagar, eh? That oughta be fun," chuckled Aedan, "bring me back some darkspawn heads."_

_"I'll try brother," laughed Fergus. To be honest, Aedan was worried about his brother. Although experienced with a sword, Fergus had never once beaten him in sparring. He was a jolly man, but perhaps a little too easily distracted by noble comforts: he had been away at several noble parties beforehand, so his sword arm needed some practice._

_Eleanor and Bryce entered the room to see Fergus off. They hid their concern well with their smiles._

_"I will pray that the Maker protects you," said Eleanor, wrinkles in her brow._

_"I think that a good shield might be better," muttered Aedan beneath his breath. His mother pinched his arm and he winced. _

_"I will still pray nevertheless. You are a good man, and I have faith that the Maker watches over you," stated Eleanor, "although I am not too sure about your brother here."_

_"I'm sure I don't need the Maker to protect me from the dust bunnies in my room."_

_Eleanor sighed and shook her head. "The sass on this one...I'll have to pray especially hard for you."_

_"Don't worry mother," said Fergus, "nothing is going to happen."_

* * *

><p>"You have a wife?" asked Aedan as he and his companions trudged through the forest. He had noticed Jory cleaning his ring of blood after an encounter with wolves. They had been a particularly vicious bunch, tempered by the harshness of the wilds. Aedan felt a little sorry cutting down the creatures, who wished only to protect their own. He could respect that.<p>

"Yes," said Jory, who smiled to himself, "with child. How about you? Any family?"

"A brother. He's part of one the scouting parties going around-"

Aedan walked right into Alistair's back, who had stopped in the middle of the trail. Alistair put his finger over his lip, and motioned over to an armored figure standing off in the distance.

A growl and a hiss, like a dead man's wail from a crying baby. Drool dripped from it's mouth as it roared at Aedan's company. Makeshift armor hung off it's body, like a macabre doll some child had put together. It's face was leathery and wet, with what looked to be rotted flesh peeling from it's skin.

Darkspawn. The name fit. Aedan had never seen anything so monstrous in his life. His heart raced for a brief moment as the fear surged through his veins.

But then he remembered that compared to other monsters, other murderers, this beast was no threat. The fear subsided, and his hold on his sword tightened. Aedan rocketed towards the darkspawn, and with one clean thrust pierced it's chest. The darkspawn had no time to react to him, and helplessly died upon his sword.

"Damn," said Alistair, "you'll make a good warden." He stood over the dead darkspawn and uncorked a vial to take it's blood.

"This one's for you", he stated, handing the bottle to Aedan. A tiny drip of the darkspawn blood trickled down the glass vial. It stuck to Aedan as he grabbed it with his hand, sending a cold shiver down his spine.

"So what are we supposed to be getting this darkspawn blood for?" asked Aedan.

"They happen to make great bath salts, so we include them in a little goodie bag we give to every new Warden," chuckled Alistair. The suspicious expressions of the others indicated their lack of amusement. "You'll see," he said, "Now just be thankful these are only scouts."

After encounters with several other darkspawn, the group came upon the abandoned tower. Littered with broken trees and partially engulfed by swamp water, the group had to tread with care. Aedan found the scene majestic in a way: how the vines wrapped around the tower, encircling it and giving it new life as a home for animals. The way the sun cast a hazy shadow across the foliage. The sounds of the swamp creatures echoing through the vast space. He had never seen anything like it.

"Nervous, are we Jory?" slithered Daveth, who patted the unnerved knight on the back with a smile. The knight flicked away Daveth's hand, and snarled back, "Do not touch me. I do not like this...any of this."

Jory turned to Alistair, and said, "Why all these damn tests? Have I not already proven myself as ready to fight darkspawn?"

Alistair shrugged and made a sour expression."You'll see. Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise." Aedan continued to look upon the argument between the three. They had forgotten about the search and now bickered. "Come on, these documents aren't going to just be handed over to us," shouted Aedan at the three. Their voices died down, and the sound of their footsteps came behind him. A quiet squish below his feet and a resulting smell alerted Aedan that he had stepped in something quite unapppealing. Alistair's giggles did not help.

"You know that makes you sound like a girl," Aedan retorted.

"Doesn't matter- you still stepped in poo," laughed Alistair. Even the nervous Ser Jory couldn't help but snigger.

"Damn it," Aedan muttered as he scraped his foot against a pillar. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted an aged chest covered in vines. One swift blow from his sword smashed it open. Nothing lay within.

"You have got to be kidding me," he remarked. Aedan grumbled and motioned for the others to fan out and search the area. He looked down at the broken chest, filled with dust and plants.

"Lucky day my ass."

Aedan didn't know why, but the words of the aged mage came to mind after his own left his lips. He looked up. A woman stared back. Her eyes, yellow, mysterious, bright like the sun and dark like the night startled him. Her gaze met his.

Perhaps it was his lucky day.


	4. Greetings

**Part 1: Heroes**

_Chapter 4: Greetings_

"Well, well, what have we here?"

The black-haired woman approached. Her makeshift garb left little to the imagination. The dark red robe was draped very loosely down her chest, revealing a faint outline of her well shaped bosom. Strings and little patches of cloth held together her outfit. The feathers that poked out her robe's shoulder reminded Aedan of a raven: dark, free, and flying higher than anyone else. It seemed appropriate.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst bones that were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled Wild's of mine in search of easy prey?"

Her eyes scanned the group before her. Two scared men, another in a ready stance with his sword drawn, and, more interestingly, another casually standing his ground as she grew closer. She could see him scanning her, assessing the situation. He had taken notice of her beauty, no doubt, but she could see that it did not distract him. This one intrigued her. She turned to him.

"What say you, hmmm? Scavenger or intruder?" she uttered, twisting her head ever so slightly to focus on Aedan.

"Neither," stated Aedan, "We are Grey Wardens, and this tower once belonged to us." The words "Grey Wardens", when they rolled off Aedan's tongue, felt hollow for some reason. He had always looked up to the group, but no pride welled up inside of him when he said "we".

The women replied, "Tis a tower no longer- the wilds have obviously claimed this dessicated corpse."

The women took two steps foward, and the three people behind Aedan stepped back. Aedan stayed still as the woman continued to approach.

"I have watched your progress for quite some time, and I have been wondering, why disturb ashes which no one has touched for so long?"

"Don't answer," whispered Alistair, "she looks Chasind." His eyes darted across the surroundings. "There may be more nearby."

"Oh," laughed the woman, "you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

"Yes..swooping is bad," the former templar said suspiciously, glaring at the woman. His sword remained drawn.

"She's a witch of the wild's she is- she'll turn us into toads!" yelled Daveth.

"Witch of the Wilds? What drivel is this, these legends and stories of yours? Have you no minds of your own?" she scowled at him.

The forest woman turned once again to Aedan. "You there, handsome lad, tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civilized."

"I am Aedan. A pleasure to meet you." A smile crept across his face as he bowed in front of the woman respectfully. Whoever she was, she either had valuable information, or was someone he didn't want to piss off. Courtesy never hurt.

The woman smiled with what could be either delight or humor. "Now that is a proper greeting, even here in the wilds."

"You may call me Morrigan."

* * *

><p><em>"So, pup, can please repeat to me what I've told you to say?"<em>

_Aedan sighed._

_"Come on. You do this, and the land dispute between Bann Abelard and Ser Orwell will be settled."_

_"Hello Bann Abelard, so nice to see you," gritted Aedan through his teeth, wearing a smile that strained his very skin. He walked over to a bust of his grandfather and shook an imaginary hand._

_"How's you son been doing? I heard he just took first place in the jousting tournament, that's really quite...splendid," trailed off Aedan before he gasped for air._

_"Damn, I can just taste the bullshit on my mouth," he said, chewing his tongue as if to get rid of his words._

_Bryce laughed. "That bullshit is called politics, son."_

_"You mean pretending to be interested in someone I know to be a thieving, lying, conniving little snake who squanders his fortunes on prostitutes."_

_This marked the first time Bryce had ever asked his son to help him with politics. Aedan had been surprised when his father had come to him with this request- usually Fergus was the one who would do the talking, as he was the next in line for the position of teryn. At 20 years old, most of Aedan's involvement with politics had been simply standing and shaking hands silently._

_"Son, all you have to do is get us invited to his manor- get me in there, and I'll do the rest of the talking. Before you know it, that little land dispute between our vassels is over, and a good bit of violence is spared."_

_"And why can't you just do the talking now? At this big gathering we're having?"_

_Every so often, Aedans father, the Teryn of Highever, would have a party of sorts at the Highever castle for his vassals. Less formal than an official meeting of the teyrnship, but still tinged with the taste of politics. Nobles sipped wine and rubbed shoulders, hoping to push their agendas further. His father was no exception._

_"There are many, many more matters I have to attend to as Teryn. The amount of time it would take me to convince a stubborn man such as Bann Abelard to stop goading Ser Orwell into conflict with his neighbors would take awhile. Fergus is off away on business, so I need to trust you to do this for me."_

_"Just pull out the extra strong wine," grumbled Aedan, who yawned and stretched his arms towards the sky. _

_"Aedan," growled his father sternly. Rarely did Aedan's father take such a harsh tone with him, so he took notice._

_"Fine, fine, fine," said Aedan, waving his hands in the air, "convince the Bann to invite us to his manor. Got it."_

_"And if he does invite you, make sure that you don't seem ungrateful. Being invited into another's home can be serious business."_

* * *

><p>Aedan pushed away the leaves of the surrounding trees to find a shabby hut by a murky lake. It looked decrepit, but perhaps that was the point.<p>

Morrigan walked over to an old woman standing by her door. "Mother, here are four grey wardens-"

"Yes, yes, much as I expected," interrupted the old woman.

"Are we supposed to believe that you were expecting us?" asked Alistair.

"You do not have to anything, least of all believe. Whether you shut your eyes or open your arms wide,"

She gave a knowing glance at Alistair and Aedan.

"One's a fool."

Morrigan's mother smiled at Aedan dangerously. Years around politicians had given Aedan a talent for reading people- their body language, their speech, their mannerisms.

But this woman defied everything he had learned. There was no movement from her, save for the turning of her head and the gaze of her eyes. No twitch of the eye, no nervous ticks. Clearly, she was going for the "frail, eccentric, old woman" act. But beyond that, Aedan could not tell what she wanted. Her confident smile unnerved him to no end. In the background, Daveth and Jory squabbled with fearful whispers. Alistair simply stood at alert, his hand never leaving his sword hilt.

"And what of you," Morrigan's mother directed at Aedan, "do you believe as the others do? Or do you possess a different viewpoint?"

"I'm not sure what to believe," replied Aedan, who removed his hand from his hilt to cross his arms across his chest. His brow furrowed as he stared at the old woman who stared back.

"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. So much about you is uncertain...and yet I believe...or do I? It seems I do!" the woman cackled. "I know what you seek, and I have your treaties here. Before you begin barking, the seals on your chest wore off many years ago. I have protected these."

"You protected them?" asked Alistair "Why?"

"Why not. Take these to your precious superiors and tell them this blight's threat is greater than they realize."

Aedan eyed the old woman carefully as she reached into her robe to pull out three aged scrolls and handed them to him. With the greatest care he unraveled the scrolls to check their contents. Alistair eyed them from behind.

"Treaties that oblige the elves, dwarves, and mages to help in a time of a blight. I could see how that would be useful," said Aedan, who rolled them back up and placed them in his pack, "Thank you for safekeeping these."

"Such manners!" laughed Morrigan's mother, "always in the last place you look. Like stockings."

* * *

><p><em>"Aedan's about to go talk to the Bann," muttered Bryce as he rubbed his temples, "I just hope he remembers his manners."<em>

_"Here you go dear. Tell me if you need anymore," cooed his wife, who left to go talk with Lady Landra after handing her husband another glass of wine._

_Bryce cringed as his son approached the Bann, half-expecting the Bann to scoff and walk off. But to his amazement, Aedan approached the man with a charming smile and open body language. He almost spat out his drink in surprise when the two started laughing together._

_"Maker be praised," uttered Bryce in utter disbelief. Aedan strolled over to his father's table, casually slumping into the seat across from his father._

_"So I'm going to be participating in three days at some tournament they're holding." He flicked a piece of cheese into his mouth. "No big deal."_

_This time Bryce did spit out his drink._

_"Are you crazy? That's the Royal Swordsmen Tournament! That's some of the finest in all of Ferelden- you're going to come out of that black and blue all over."_

_Aedan smiled sinisterly. "Relax father," he chuckled, taking a sip of scarlet wine, "either I lose spectacularly or I win spectacularly. Either way, you have a front row seat to the matches alongside the Bann, during which you can charm him all you want. And I get to have some fun for once."_

_"How the hell did you do that? To get into that tournament is invite only by Cailan himself."_

_"Well, the Bann's other son was recently injured in a terrible accident a few days ago, so his spot in the tournament was vacant, and frankly their family could use the good press. A little brown-nosing here, a little wine there, and voila. You are now looking at the Bann Abelard's second born- I'm going to have to wear a helmet though, never been a big fan of those."_

_"So you're pretending to be his son?"_

_"I think I might have to grow a moustache. Does his son have moustache?" mused Aedan absentmindedly as he rubbed the area above his lips._

_"I thought you'd be terrible at this Aedan," admitted his Father, who downed the rest of his wine._

_"What did you think I was doing at all those fancy dinners Father? Just staring at the wall?" grinned Aedan, " I just remembered what you always taught me. Always be vigilant."_

_Bryce's heart warmed. "That's my boy," he smiled._

* * *

><p>"Thank you," said Aedan.<p>

"What?" replied Morrigan.

"You're taking the time to show us out of the Wild's, when you could just leave us clueless in the middle of nowhere. So thank you."

The woman scoffed. "Tis not my desire to show you out- my mother is the one who insisted I do so. I would have heard no end from her if I had not done so."

"Interesting place to live, the Wilds."

"If you are looking down on my living choices, then perhaps we should test that theory of whether I can turn men into toads."

"I'm serious. I've been cooped up in the same snowy areas for most of my life. Seeing something like this is...refreshing."

"This swamp...is refreshing?" Alistair looked at the recruit in disbelief.

"You know what I mean," laughed Aedan.

"I really don't." Alistair made a face as a bubble popped on the surface of a nearby bog, splattering mud over Jory's legs.

"You know, getting out to see new places. I always wanted to be an adventurer, seeing the world."

Morrigan listened with intrigue. For all the men she had encountered, Aedan had been the first to regard the Wilds as something remotely appealing. "And what, if I may be so curious, kept you cooped up in the same place?"

"My family," said Aedan, who gave Jory an irritated push foward. The knight had stopped in the middle of the path to clean his leg, delaying the group. Nightfall had come, and however intriguing the Wilds, they had to make it back to camp in time.

"Yes, Flemeth was not a very lax mother either."

The group came upon sight of the army camp.

"We can do the rest by ourselves, I doubt you want to be spotted by the templars," said Aedan, who gave Morrigan a wave whilst the other three ran off hurriedly towards the camp. the witches playful jeerings during the walk there had unnerved Daveth and Jory to no end.

As Aedan turned his back to her, Morrigan muttered, "You're welcome."

"Hmm?" inquired Aedan as he turned around to face her.

"I do not wish to be impolite- that is all," she growled. Her lithe figure disappeared into the foliage, and the sound of her footsteps vanished.

* * *

><p><em>"So, Fergus, what do you think?" asked Aedan as he turned around, clad in armor. He had made sure to give it an extra shine. <em>

_"Well, I can't tell it's you, if that's what you're asking."_

_"No, that's not it... do I look-"_

_Aedan struggled to find the right word._

_For him, this tournament wasn't just a favor for the Bann- that was just a plus. For him, it represented a chance to test his mettle against some of the greatest knights in the realm. For so long he had been cooped up in the Highever Castle, living the noble's life. But he wanted to be so much more, to be like the adventurers in stories. To be fighting epic battles and killing dragons._

_Aedan grinned as he decided on the right word._

_"Heroic."_

_"Well if that's what you're looking for, then no."_

_"What," cried Aedan, "why not?"_

_"I don't know...I'd guess a hero would have some sort of aura about him, standing tall in the wind atop his defeated foes," mused Fergus, stroking his stubble in contemplation._

_"Come on, I got the whole getup here- sword and armor." Aedan swung said sword up above his head, battling imaginary dragons._

_"Aedan, if it were that easy to look like a hero, half of woman in Fereldan would be tricked into a night with lecherous old men."_

_"Well, what does Loghain or Maric look like?" asked Aedan as he adjusted his helmet._

_Fergus sighed. "Why are you so concerned with this anyway- you look fine."_

_"You know, growing up, I always wanted to be one of those heroes out of the stories that Mother would tell us as we went to sleep. This is probably the closest I'll ever get- a knight at the king's tournament. That doesn't sound too bad."_

_"Brother, my advice? Be a bit more concerned about whether your armor is strapped in properly."_

_Fergus slapped Aedan on the back, whose chestpiece fell with a prompt thud on the floor. Aedan's face went red._

_"Go get em hero."_

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

So, my first author's notes on this. Thanks for all those who are reading and have reviewed. So something you may have noticed is different is that the flashbacks in this chapter are regarding one story- this side-story will continue on until the end of part 1 - it ties back closely with what is happening with Aedan in Ostagar, and will feature some familiar faces. Feel free to review and provide me with constructive criticism.


	5. Remembrance

**Part 1: Heroes**

_Chapter 5: Remembrance_

The Joining, Aedan surmised, probably lacked pranks by senior members or or other mean spirited rituals. Although with Alistair he wasn't too sure. During dinner that night Alistair had a pouch filled with air under Aedan's seat. Upon sitting down, the bag emitted a soung resembling a fart, causing all the surrounding soldiers to look at him funny.

Despite the embarrassment, Aedan appreciated the joke. It lightened the mood and distracted them from the looming battle. Soldiers were on the edge: they fumbled with their weapons, picked at their food, and paced around. Jory especially, for as much as the name of Grey Wardens was well-known, the ritual of the Joining was not. The knight fidgeted with his wedding ring and mumbled under his breath.

"So, do you think Cailan's plan will work?" asked Aedan as he warmed his hands by the crackling fire. Despite it being summer, the wind blew strong tonight. The soldiers shivered beneath layers of clothing.

"Cailan?" blurted out Alistair, who sprayed his drink over Daveth.

"...Our king?"

"Ah yes, that Cailan, sorry, thought you were asking me another question," laughed Alistair nervously. He poked the fire with a stick, rolling over the firewood. "I hope so."

"It just seems too...simple. Too much like something out of a storybook," remarked Aedan. He smiled bitterly as he recalled his stories to Oren. "You know, heroes riding on horses over a hill, overwhelming a horde as the sun rises, shouting a battle cry to the heavens. Something like that."

"Stab the archdemon and stop the blight, how complicated is that?" said Alistair, "Darkspawn aren't particularly cunning. We've got the manpower, we've got all the Fereldan Grey Wardens, we've got Loghain and Cailan. Honestly, we'll be starting the battle around nightfall in a few days, so your whole sunrise theory could actually happen."

Alistair patted Aedan on the back, and shot him a grin though his full mouth."Relax buddy, everything's going to be fine."

* * *

><p><em>The sun glinted in Aedan's eyes as he lowered his visor to conceal his face. He approached the group of competitors who stood at ready in a straight line. He too took his place, putting his arms at his side and with armaments sheathed.<em>

_"Knights," shouted the announcer, "and all present. Please bow in the presence of your Highness, King Maric."_

_From the corner of his eye Aedan saw the king walk. The man, clad in aged golden armor, slowly made his way down the line of knights, gazing into each of their helmets for a glimpse of their eyes. He was certainly not old, but his eyes had the feeling that they had seen too much, been put through more than most men would ever see. Hints of wrinkles hovered around his eyelid and his brow._

_Yet something about the way he stood, the way he walked, made Aedan want to stand up straighter and be stronger in his prescense. This man had done something truly heroic. Aedan's mother would tell him stories of mythical creatures and legendary adventurers, but they had always been distant and faraway tales. And yet here, a man stood straight out of his childhood stories, who had done things Aedan could only dream of: slaying dragons, uniting a nation, and adventuring across the lands. Aedan didn't want to just sit around in a noble's castle all day- he wanted be like Maric and Loghain. At the very least, he could try and be a fighter as good as them._

_"Knights," uttered King Maric, "I know that there are a great many of you that entertain the fact that you are the best in Fereldan. __Let's see if you can prove it yourself and us that you are right."_

_Aedan chuckled. He found it ironic that the man of least words would be the one that was asked to talk the most._

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, missing?"Aedan growled. An elven messenger had just arrived back with news of Fergus's scouting group in the Wilds.<p>

"They've been gone for 5 days, and their Mabari just came back...with this," stuttered the elven messenger, who handed Aedan a small woven bracelet. It had been Fergus's- a bracelet given to him by his wife for good luck. The messenger ran off with more scrolls before Aedan could ask after him.

Fergus had once said to him he would rather die then part with this bracelet. Perhaps the statement had truth to it.

But Aedan was surprised by how calmly he was taking this. He couldn't feel anything- no anger, no sadness, no worry. Aedan's hand moved over his heart, which beat normally.

_Just this gaping emptiness. This dulled pain._

Perhaps he was just compartmentalizing this for later. Whatever the reason, Aedan was glad that he could handle this: as he approached the Joining site, Jory and Daveth once again bickered, and Aedan grew annoyed by the constant yelling. It took all his willpower to keep him from punching both.

Jory paced back and forth, wringing his hands as he muttered aloud, "Why all these tests? What are they planning on doing?"

"Perhaps they're just trying to spook you ser knight," said Daveth. His usual jovial nature had disappeared, replaced by a grim expression. Arms crossed, he stared at the ground and pondered.

"What more could they ask from us? We have proven ourselves- what is this damn ritual?" shouted Jory. He voice suddenly grew quiet as he whispered, "what if we die?"

"If you could save your pretty wife and child, wouldn't you sacrifice anything to stop this Blight?" resolved Daveth, "I would sacrifice anything if I knew it would end the Blight."

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade," said Jory, his heart racing. Jory's mouth sealed tight when Duncan approached, a silver chalice in hand. Alistair followed, with the most solemn expression Aedan had ever seen on the joking templar's face.

"The Grey Warden's were founded during the First Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint."

Jory's face contorted in horror, "We're going...to drink their blood?"he croaked.

"It is the source of our power...and victory. Those who survive the Joining can sense the darkspawn and slay the archdemon using the taint within."

Silence ensued for the briefest of moments.

"Let's get on with this then," interuptted Aedan grimly. He didn't like the silence- it left him alone with his thoughts.

* * *

><p><em>As Aedan's face landed on the ground, his steel helmet ringing against his head, the thought occured to him: maybe he was out of his league.<em>

_For the first time in his life, Aedan had met his equals. When his blows met theirs, they pushed back with greater force. When he went to strike, their swords would find him faster. Only lucky breaks ensured his victories- one knight's armor, overloaded with fancy decorations, had fallen apart and distracted him. The one before that collapsed from heat exhaustion._

_For all the practice that Aedan had done, all the drills he had repeated, the dummies he had broken, there was one essential piece from his training that he had never actually thought about._

_He had never taken a bad hit. Never been in a tough fight._

_Aedan had on occasion dueled with other noble children, but yet they could never keep up with him. Defeating them taught Aedan nothing- they barely had time to pick up their sword before Aedan had his at their throat. They had sometime made glancing blows, and he and his brother would sometimes have fistfights, but he had never taken much damage in his life._

_His stomach reeled from his opponent's mace. Aedan had rushed in too close, and had left his torso vulenerable whilst making a sword swipe. It felt strange to be hit so hard that it felt like he was going to throw up. Painful, but strange as well._

_Although he had just defeated his latest opponent, his body gave way and he lay face down in the ground. He groaned and pushed himself back up, limping torwards the pit where his father awaited him._

_"How you feeling son?" asked his father._

_"Like shit," said Aedan. He thre his sweat drenched helmet to the ground and collapsed onto a nearby wall._

_"I've seen you do better," chuckled Bryce._

_"Pretty sure I'm doing my best here father," coughed Aedan, "I even got into the semi-finals. That's pretty fucking honorable. Think the Duke will be happy with that."_

_"Are you?" replied Bryce, with a more serious expression._

_"God no. But what the hell can I do? Better to go out with some pride than crawling on the floor like some kind of cockroach."_

_"When it comes to battle, never worry about looking like some sort of hero. That's what children worry about. Or politicians- it's hard to tell the difference."_

_The pair shared a knowing chuckle._

_"Pride is a dangerous thing son, never let it be your better. That's not what you should be worrying about."_

_"And what should I be worrying about?"_

_"Getting back up. It is so easy to stay down, to just quit. Every man will be knocked down at some point in his life. But a strong man, a good man, will get back up no matter what happens. And when you get knocked down again? Get back up and keep fighting. The man who always gets back up never loses."_

_Bryce handed Aedan's sword back to him. Aedan sheathed it back to his side and put his helmet back on._

_"You think your mother said yes the first time I asked her to marry me?" smiled his father. _

_"Why do you have to make every damn conversation some sort of lecture," Aedan groaned whilst covering his smile with his visor. He'd never admit, but he enjoyed his father's little lectures._

_"Because, to me, you'll always be my little pup,"came his father's reply as Aedan walked away, " and I want to make sure that when the world comes for you, you'll be ready."_

* * *

><p>"Alistair, if you would?"<p>

"Join us, brothers and sisters," Alistair whispered, "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you." He closed his eyes and let the silence simmer. He too had gone through a Joining. He too had those to remember.

Duncan raised his hands up, chalice in the air. He walked solemnly towards Daveth, then handed to him the chalice. Daveth sipped. The air tightened. Daveth began to tremble and convulse, his hands shaking not out of fear this time, but something else entirely. His body crashed to the ground. His eyes had gone completely white, and Jory and Aedan could only stare in horror as Daveth's body went limp all of a sudden. A tiny stream of blood dripped from his mouth. When Aedan saw his eyes, he could see once again death staring back at him.

Alistair bowed his head in silence. He kneeled down and closed Daveth's eyes. Duncan too bowed quietly, but then turned to Jory, the cup outstretched.

"No, no, you cannot ask me to do this!" said Jory, whose feet stepped backwards, "I have a wife, a child...please, if I had known..." He raised his hands out in front of him and looked away from Duncan.

"There is no turning back," asserted Duncan.

His hands met the pillar behind him, and Duncan was still approaching. Sweat ran down Jory's face and clammy hands, which grasped for his hilt and swung his blade out in a wide arc. The tip grazed Duncan's side.

Duncan put the cup down. Jory's eye's widened in fear.

"This is too much, there is no glory in this!" Jory lashed out, swinging his sword once again. Duncan rolled to the side, and with one quick rush sunk his blade into Jory's torso.

Daveth's motionless body lay on the ground. Jory's bloodied corpse, still warm, bled out in a pool of blood.

"But the Joining is not yet complete...you are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good" uttered Duncan to him, approaching with the cup. Aedan took it in his hands. The fear surged through his body, numbing the edges of his fingertips as they touched the cold metal chalice. Aedan peered into the cup. Jory's share was still in there, and a little bit of Daveth's as well. And Daveth had only a sip- what would happen to him? Perhaps only a sip, just a sip would do, and he would survive-

But his mind caught his thoughts as they descended into fear. This is what led Jory to his death. Fear made him weak.

Daveth, though his body was weak, his resolution was strong. _Of course he was afraid_, thought Aedan, _I could see him shivering. _But Daveth had swallowed that fear, and had died a man, not a coward like Jory. There would be no stories told of Daveth, no triumphant tales of his bravery though. Daveth knew that risk, yet still drank. Jory's final words echoed in Aedan's mind- _"There is no glory in this! _The pursuit of glory had made Jory weak. Like a drowning man desperately clinging to a rope to hang onto.

Aedan's fingers trembled as he brought the cup to his lips. He had always wanted to be a Grey Warden, a hero, for glory. But that was a shallow dream, the fantasies of a boy who did not appreciate the family he had been so blessed with. He had so desperately wanted to escape. And now he had almost nothing left of them except for his memories and a broken blade.

All he could do now is live by those memories and the strength they had given him.

Aedan gulped down once for Daveth.

Another gulp for Jory.

And the final one for him.

He could feel the spasms and the pain beginning to come. The darkness began to seep through his body, running through his veins and making him burn from the inside out. Everything went black, but Aedan struggled for a hold on reality. He could still feel the ground between his fingers, the wind against his face, but even those senses were dulling.

_Is this what death feels like?_ he thought, the life slowly being choked out of him. There was pain, so much pain. He gasped for air on the ground as Duncan and Alistair loomed over him, watching, hoping, with heavy expressions. Aedan could feel himself slipping into the darkness, his grip loosening. He clasped for anything, something, to keep him anchored to this world. But everything he had ever loved had been ripped from him.

_Maybe, maybe it would be okay to just-_

He slammed his fist on the ground, holding back a scream of pain as he banished that cowardly thought from his head. Aedan replayed the images in his head that he had been trying so hard not to think about.

Nan's lifeless body. Oren's dead blood that ran from Oriana's back. His mother and father's final stand.

Who would bring them justice if not him?

His right arm burned hotter then any pain the taint raging through him brought, as if his sword shards were being twisted into his flesh. His mind zoomed in on that pain, anchoring himself to it, reminding him of what he had lost and what he had to do. There was still a Blight to stop, still justice to be enacted.

Flashes of a tainted dragon struck his mind, it's fearsome wail sending him reeling in pain. But still he held onto his sanity.

_Any pain_, Aedan thought,_ I must endure. Any sorrow, I must endure. I will not buckle under their weight, become slave to my own weakness, my own fear. I will do for the families of Fereldan what I could not do for mine._

_I still have duties in this world. I will not leave them. I cannot._

_I've been taught better than that._

"I'll fucking carry it all," he sputtered to the darkness.

Despite the pain raging through him, Aedan began to push himself up. His muscles burned and clenched, but he could feel his body rising up. He would make it. As he stood there shaking, slowly, steadily, the pain subsided. He felt the cool wind and cold ground again. His breath slowed as the throbbing in his right arm calmed. Aedan collapsed against a pillar, struggling to keep himself up until all the pain had disappeared.

"How do you feel?" asked Duncan, offering Aedan a hand. Aedan half-heartedly slapped it away, choosing instead to pull himself up using the pillar.

"I'm...fine," stuttered Aedan. But his mind still held one question, which he voiced to Duncan: "Did he have to die?"

"Excuse me?" asked Duncan.

"You just...killed Jory. Why? I understand that he could have hurt you, but why not just knock him out?"

"He had drawn his sword. He could have hurt you, Alistair, or me. He knew of the Joining- what would happen to potential recruits if word got out about it?"

"We're supposed to-"

"We do whatever it takes to ensure that the Blight is stopped," Duncan said, "No matter the cost. That is the duty you must carry."Duncan turned towards the forest. "Take the bodies you two- I had a pyre prepared...in case."

Alistair and Aedan picked up the two bodies of their comrades and carried them down the path to the pyre. It was nothing fancy, just a pile of wood layed out in a square manner. The wind howled through the trees.

Alistiar whispered, "Duncan, are you sure the fire will be able to stay up-"

"Then we'll light it again, and again, until the wind stops. They deserve a pyre," stated Duncan aburptly.

Alistair nodded and laid Daveth's body on the wood. Aedan followed and placed Jory's next to Daveth. It was strange, seeing these two laying silently together. For the few days he had known them, Aedan had always seen them bickering. Now that they were silent, he missed the noise.

The heat of the torch blew in Aedan's face as Duncan held the torch out for him. "Light it," Duncan said, "and remember them."

With reluctant hand, Aedan lit the pyre with the torch. The fire seeped through the logs and wood, slowly engulfing the bodies. A column of orange and red began to rise, burning bright in the night sky. Slowly Aedan watched the faces of Jory and Daveth be consumed by the fire. At the very least, they had gotten a proper funeral. Aedan thought back to the bodies of his family, and grimaced at the thought at what could have happened to their bodies. He didn't want to think about it.

"Let's wait...until the fire dies," Aedan muttered, "until they're ashes."

The three men shared a look, then turned back toward the raging flame.

They waited.


	6. Doubt

**Part 1: Heroes**

_Chapter 6: Doubt_

"Is it normal to feel queasy?" said Aedan as he stuffed his face with food.

"I don't cook that badly," muttered Alistair sorely.

"I mean the Joining."

"Perfectly normal. For both cases," said Alistair, who added as an afterthought, "I do cook that badly."

Aedan watched the smoke lazily rise. Since the joining, silence had replaced Jory and Daveth's bickering. Although the threat of the darkspawn horde loomed, the troops could do nothing until the darkspawn arrived, save for preparations. Each morning, Aedan would fall in line with the king's soldiers. Duncan had told him to join in their morning drills so as to get aquainted with the men and woman he would be serving alongside. Aedan sparred with the soldiers, which he considered a light practice and stress reliever before the coming storm. Afternoons, however, were when Duncan drilled the Wardens.

As the other Warden's sparred with each other, Aedan saw in their eyes and movements a sort of desperation that he knew. There were too few Wardens, upon whom Cailan had placed his hopes and dreams on. It felt tense, training for this insurmountable task .

"Come on, time to spar," said Duncan, who pulled Aedan to his feet. The two proceeded to a small clearing, where upon arriving they drew their swords. Cautiously the two circled each other. Their eyes looked for any sudden movements, any indication of what might come next. The two lept at each other simultaneously. Duncan's sword grazed Aedan's ear, drawing the tiniest drop of blood, whilst Aedan grazed Duncan's forearm.

"When fighting the darkspawn, you fight to kill," stated Duncan, "Do not waver like with humans."

"I know," said Aedan. He grunted in pain as his right arm swung at Duncan. The wounds were still sore.

"Do you?" Duncan inquired, tripping Aedan with a sweep to the leg. "Because I've seen how you fight. During sparring, at the castle, at the tournament-"

"What tournament?"

"I've personally sparred with Bann Abelard's son, and he can barely swing a sword without tripping over himself. I noticed that your father and the Bann were negiotating something in the stands, so it wasn't too hard to put two and two together."

Aedan wiped off his sweaty brow. Duncan't statement had taken him by surprise."You were there?"

"Of course, I attend many major tournaments to seek out potential recruits."

"So you're complaining about my non-lethal fighting style after recruiting me because of how well I did in a non-lethal tournament?" Aedan parryed Duncan's blow and pushed him back with a smirk. "Seems a little hypocritical."

"I did not choose you for killing ability-"

Duncan closed in, elbowed Aedan in the chest. Aedan blinked, and when his eyes opened again, his back lay on the ground, with Duncan's sword barely grazing his nose.

"But that does not mean that you don't need it to win this battle."

Duncan hoisted Aedan back up and tossed him his sword.

"You're used to simply beating your opponents until they comply, or until they're tired. They have do not have fear. They don't think. They will overpower you with superior numbers. That is the cold truth of the matter."

"And with this battle...do they outnumber us?"

Duncan went silent, staring resolutely at Aedan before saying, "We have a meeting with the war council." He turned around and spoke no more of the matter. Aedan't didn't want to talk about it either.

* * *

><p>The heated argument between the Teyrn and Cailan welcomed Duncan and Aedan.<p>

"Cailan, I must object to this foolhardy naivety that you join the soldiers on the front lines!" shouted Loghain. Aedan grimaced at the sight of the king and Loghain screaming at each other across the war table. The torches lit what looked to be a pained expression on Loghain's face, his wrinkles contorted and his eyes baggy. Cailan too did not look any better. From afar, Aedan could always see him smiling and spouting off optimism. But close up, he looked as tired as the rest of the soldiers.

The two had not noticed the approach of either Duncan or Aedan. Several other troop leaders, as well as a rather wiry looking mage stood on the sides of the table. They took watched as the conflict unfurled before their eyes.

"I will be taking my place among my army, among the legend that we will forge today!" Cailan replied. He slammed his fist into the table, knocking down the pieces that Loghain had put up.

"Cailan, please, you're too valuable-" said Loghain.

"Or perhaps you'd like to wait for reinforcements from the Orlesian Grey Wardens?" retorted Cailan.

"You put entirely too much trust in these Grey Wardens Cailan. They are not some sort of magic spear that will end the Blight."

"Or maybe you're just afraid of the Orlesians? Hmmmm?" smirked Cailan. The king knew those words twisted Loghain's heart, and his eyes twinkled with malice. Aedan had never seen a demon before, but he imagined that Loghain's face at that moment looked like one. His fist shook with indignation at Cailan's comment, at the very nerve of it. "I'm almost glad that Maric is dead- then he would not have to see his son hand over the country to the very people he worked to free it from," he spat out. He slammed his fist on the table, and stared Cailan down. Neither man wished to compromise. Silence ensued, before Duncan broke it with a cough. "Greetings your majesty, and to you as well Teyrn Loghain. I believe you had made finalizations regarding the battle plans?"

"We have," stated Cailan resolutely. He gave Loghain one last sour look. "Duncan, you and your Grey Wardens will join me and my personal army on the front lines. We will be sending the new recruit and Alistair up to the Tower of Ishal. Once the horde has engaged us sufficiently, then the two of them will signal Loghain, who will come in with the majority of the army." Cailan glared at Loghain once more, before turning back to Duncan and saying, "That is the final plan. As your king orders."

* * *

><p><em>A horn's blare gave the five minute mark till the next match. Aedan began the finishing touches on polishing his armor when a hand grabbed his shoulder from the shadows.<em>

"_Hey kid- ya, you."_

"_Uh..."stammered Aedan, who pondered his next words carefully. Had the man recognized he was not the Bann's son? _

_The rather dirty looking man's eyes checked around for any other people in the vicinity. After a pause, the man cautiously approached Aedan. In his hands was a rather large sack of coins that jingled quite loudly. He came a little close and Aedan could smell something foul on him._

"_Lose the next match against Ser Kyrael," he slithered. He motioned the bag in front of Adan, letting the sound of money fill his ears._

"_What?"_

"_Your father's in quite a bit of debt, right? Lose the next match against Ser Kyrael, and this money is yours."_

"_Do you seriously want to win so badly that you'd pay me-"_

"_10000 sovereigns."_

_Spit flew against the inside of his helmet as Aedan coughed wildly._

"_Don't ask questions, just take it. A lot is riding on this, so just take the damn money." Rather hostile-like, the man thrust the bag of money in front of Aedan again. He seemed nervous: there wasn't much time before the next match. __The money jingled in Aedan's ear. It was a lot of money...for anybody. Including him. Aedan fidgeted with his sword hilt._

"_Sorry, but no," growled Aedan._

"_That's too bad," the man replied before pulling a dagger to Aedan's throat. His heart pounded against his chest. A line of sweat ran down his forehead; he had never had a dagger so close to him._

"_Now, get out there and lose. Or else you and your entire damn family is d-"_

_Aedan elbowed the man in the stomach, sending him staggering backwards. With one swift movement Aedan threw the man from behind him onto his back, with his dagger held against the man's throat._

"_Hi there," said Aedan, "mind telling me what the hell you're trying to do?"_

_The man spat onto Aedan's visor. "Fuck you."_

_Aedan's hand trembled as he held the dagger to the man's throat. He took a glance at the man's belongings- daggers, poisons, bombs. This man was not looking to make a quick buck off setting up matches. He had something else in mind._

"_You're not going to kill me," chuckled the man, "you're too noble."_

_The last word dripped off of his tongue like grease, and left a sickening feeling in Aedan's stomach. He dropped the dagger and punched the man in the chin, knocking him out cold. _"_Thanks for the stuff," muttered Aedan coldly. He pocketed several bombs and the sack of money. Aedan walked out into the arena, the sun glinting off his visor as he looked around the crowd. Somewhere, among these cheering people, among the shadows, someone threatened Bann Aberlard's family._

_The challenger, Ser Kyrael, approached, towering over Aedan by a good foot. Did they really need me to throw the match? he thought. His knees buckled slightly; the man held a very, very large mace. Aedan eyed it over again. _

_A very painful mace._

"_Let the match...begin!"_

_With no hesitation the opponent took his mace and swung it downwards to crush Aedan. Panicking, Aedan jumped to the side and rolled to safety. He had been distracted by his thoughts, but he knew now how to proceed with the situation._

_Aedan's opponent swung again, and Aedan fought against every reflex in his body, and tried to stand still. The mace hit him in the side, sending him scrawling to the ground. _

_He only had a few moments, but Aedan's eyes surveyed the crowd, looking for a different reaction. Not the nobles who stood up and roared with excitement. Not his father who gripped the side of the stands with worry. _

_His opponent's shadow fell over him, and just as the foot was about to come down upon his stomach, Aedan rolled to the side, quickly sweeping the leg as he got back up._

_His eyes checked again. Some were cheering for his recovery- his father among them. If the one's threatening the Bann's family hid somewhere in the crowds, they'd be close by to the Bann and his father. Aedan spotted a brooding man, a few paces from the Bann, with unkempt hair eyeing him suspiciously. In his hands he held a knapsack which he held close. He didn't look like a noble, and didn't have the submissive demeanor of a servant. Could this be him? Only way to find out._

_It continued back and forth- sometimes with Ser Kyrael landing a blow, other times with Aedan striking. Each time Aedan searched the stands, but the only suspicious element was the man next to the Bann. Aedan knew that if the match carried on any longer, the Bann would be at risk._

_The mace came from the side this time, and Aedan crumpled like paper from the resulting blow. He could have stayed up and resisted, but he threw himself to the ground to make it look real. Ser Kyrael felt Aedan's deception, and paused before his next blow. Aedan pretended to meekly raise his hand and groaned, "Forfeit."_

_Aedan watched the man close to the Bann smirk, get up, and exit the stands._

_A rather fat looking noble descended down into the arena, holding up the hand of his opponent in victory. "My lords and ladies, we have ourselves a champion!" __The crowd erupted in clapping and cheering, whilst Aedan picked himself up. He scrutinized Ser Kyrael who waved back at the crowd. He knew about the setup. He had paused when Aedan had faked his defeat. He had known that his opponent would throw the match._

_Maybe it was just simple money. Whoever had bet on Ser Kyrael would be quite happy right now. But if money had been the issue, why were they willing to pay Aedan off so handsomely? No amount of earnings made off a simple bet could offset the cost of the bribe._

_Whatever the case, Ser Kyrael had the answer._

* * *

><p>"Men!" shouted Cailan. He stood upon the risers, his hand outstretched towards the sky. With his golden armor, and the hazy glow of the fire against him, he looked like a burning ember amongst the pale night. The soldiers began to file into their rows, the entirety of the army assembling to see the king they so adored. They flocked to him like moths to the flame.<p>

"Here approaches the darkspawn horde. Do not tremble! Do not fear them! They are but flesh and blood, but mindless creatures. The might of Thedas has beaten them back four times before!"

Men began to cheer, raising their swords to their glorious king.

"Today, we will make a legend. This day will go down in the history books, passed down from generation from generation, when the might of Ferelden made their stand against darkspawn. Fight for glory!" said Cailan. He raised his sword into the air and smirked with confidence. Those who did not already have theirs in the air rose their weapons as well. All Aedan could see for a good distance was a sea of sword, lances, and bows, all at the ready. All ready to die for the king they so believed in.

The rest of the words hazed by in Aedan's mind. He could see the soldiers cling onto Cailan's every word. For all that Loghain had said about him, he could inspire his men. While the other soldiers clapped their hands and roared with excitement, Aedan wringed his hands. The scene of the bickering between Loghain and Cailan repeated in his mind. Aedan wanted to believe so badly that this battle would be won, but could they trust a king with his head in the clouds? Could they trust a hastily arranged operation? They had so few Wardens and so few soldiers.

Aedan wanted to believe. He rubbed the scars on his right arm. He could still feel the shards piercing him- still feel his heart being torn out as his family died. Hope lay inside of him, yes, but as Aedan joined Alistair by the the other Wardens, he felt something else burdening him and dogging his every step.

Doubt.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

_Hey, decided to restart this thing- going to try and update on a weekly basis if I can. Reviews welcome!_


	7. Fight

**Part 1: Heroes**

_Chapter 7: Fight_

The orange embers of Duncan's camp slowly faded. The Wardens were making final preparations. Armor clinked against each other. Swords slid into their scabbards. No one exchanged handshakes and hugs, unlike the kings army. Nothing needed to be said between these men and women. While Alistair seemed relatively inexperienced, the others Warden radiated a certain wisdom and ferocity. Their battle-grizzled faces and dented armor stood out even in the dark of night.

"I don't understand why we need two Wardens, Wardens of all people, lighting a fire in the tower!"ranted Alistair. Duncan had tried explaining to him the plan, but the former templar would have not of it. The Warden-Commander sighed.

"It's just the way things are Alistair. This jobs is essential. Without the beacon light-"

"Ya ya, no backup army, blight kills us all, fine fine. But if the king asks me to wear a dress and dance the Remy, I'm out."

"That could be a great distraction," chuckled Aedan, "ain't nothing darkspawn love better than dancing."

Duncan rubbed his temples. "Alright you two, you need to get to the tower. Now preferably."

"Righto. We'll see you on the battlefield Duncan."Alistair walked off towards his equipment to strap in. No goodbyes.

Aedan turned to Duncan. "We'll get it done," he said.

"Keep him safe," replied Duncan. For the first time, Aedan saw worry on the aged man's face.

"I will."

* * *

><p><em>"Message for you ser," squeaked Aedan in his best imitation of an elven servant as he could. Ser Kyrael did not answer back from behind his door.<em>

_"Ser, I have quite a many a duty to attend to, or else I'll get the stick." Aedan said even more meekishly. No answer. Ser Kyrael was either not there or just a complete ass. __"Well, I tried subtlety," he sighed. He stepped back two paces, then kicked the door in."Ser Kyrael, I've got some-"_

_Much to Aedans suprise, Ser Kyrael's muffled voice cried out against his gag. The knight lay in the corner gagged and wrapped up._

_"Shit." Aedan tore the rag out of Ser Kyrael's mouth. "What happened?" he barked. He didn't know how much longer he had, and didn't have time to fully untie Ser Kyrael._

_"Some bastards knocked me out right before I was to compete!" cried Ser Kyrael, "The outrage! I bet those rapscallions just didn't want me to win. Who would stoop so low-" The knight wriggled against his bonds. He squirmed about rather annoyingly as Aedan attempted to free him._

_"Wait a second. So whoever was just at your match wasn't you?"_

_"They posed as me? Oh the absolute horror- what a disgrace I must have looked like!" _

_"You won," Aedan said, his patience growing thin._

_The knight paused, then gave an approving nod."...As I would have expected from someone posing as me."_

_"Oh for the love of," groaned Aedan, rubbing his temples, "what the hell did he look like?"_

_"Oh I don't know, some scruffy looking vagrant-"_

_Aedan gagged Ser Kyrael again, much to Aedan's relief and Ser Kyrael's indignation._

_"Absolutely no help at all." Aedan sprinted towards the stands. Perhaps the Bann was still there. __When he turned around the corner, Aedan skidded to a stop before a familiar face- his father._

_"Aedan, I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell was that? If I didn't know better, it looked like you threw the match!" Bryce said, his brow furrowed in confusion._

_"Father, listen to me," said Aedan, "someone who thought I was the Bann's son tried to bribe me."_

_"And?" asked his father, "did you take it?"_

_"Of course not. But after that, he threatened to kill the Bann if I didn't comply."_

_"Maker! We need to find the Bann."_

_"You find the Bann. He's not the main objective, or else they wouldn't have spared his life. I think whoever was posing as Ser Kyrael has something to do with this."_

_"Wait, someone's posing as Ser Kyrael?"_

_"Yes, the real one is tied up in his room. Do you know where the one who fought me earlier is?"_

_"There's a reception in the Bann's main manor, where King Maric is to award Ser Kyr-"_

_"Shit!" The young man sprinted down the hallway to the reception hall with everything he had. No time to strap out of my armor, he thought._

_Time to be a hero._

* * *

><p>Blood splattered onto Aedan's face. His blade had found it's way into a darkspawn's beating heart. As the life slowly ebbed from it and a stream of blood trickled down the sword, Aedan could ever so slightly feel the pulse deaden through his sword.<p>

_I wonder, what makes this life so different from that of a human_, he thought, _the heartbeat is all the same_. The sentiment dissapated as another darkspawn charged at him. It's revolting skin sent shivers down his spine. Aedan wasn't sure he'd ever get sure to fighting this abominations.

"Well, our job has just gotten significantly harder," grunted Aedan. He dodged and let his sword slice off the head of the darkspawn as it ran by. The darkspawn had overrun the Tower of Ishal. At the very top lay the beacon that when lit would bring the the full brunt of the army down upon the darkspawn. Gregory howled, then took a running sprint at his opponent's leg before proceeding to maul them to bits."Sadly, your dog is a lot more useful then some soldiers I know," laughed Alistair, who wiped fresh blood off of his splintmail, "and better looking as well."

"Is this really the time to be making jokes?" said Aedan. He pulled his sword out of a recently slain darkspawn. With no more in sight, he could take it a little easier.

"I find that quips during battle keep things fresh."

"I find they make your kill count smaller," replied Aedan, pointing to the numerous darkspawn bodies strewn about him. He glanced over at Alistair's two kills and smirked before striding towards the tower.

"Ha ha, very funny," grouched Alistair. But from the corner of his eye he could see Aedan chuckle at his joke. "You know you love them!" shouted Alistair. Aedan knew he was right. It helped distract him.

Aedan tried to not to listen to the battle sounds. Not the sound of the darkspawn charging. No, the ones that hurt the most were far off. Screams of men. Desperate pleas of mercy. Swords breaking. Slowly the army would fall one by one.

He pulled open the doors of the tower. The ancient hinges groaned as they moved. Inside the torches of the darkspawn lit a foreboding battlefield. The enemies snarled as the moonlight trickled through the doorway. The doors slammed behind him. The sounds of the battle outside vanished. Sword drawn, Aedan strode forward. He had work to do.

* * *

><p>"<em>Maric, tell me, when the hell does this thing end?" groused Loghain. As highly involved in the government he was, nevertheless some functions never failed to annoy him. He found these little pretend fights these knights had pointless. Ferelden had grown complacent. They had forgotten what battle truly meant. Loghain grumbled at two knights sipping wine. Knights. A mockery of what they once were.<em>

"_Patience old friend. I just have to present this award, then we can be back at Denerim by sunset," said Maric. He waved at young noble lady who had smiled at him. She blushed and scurried off. _

"_Yes yes, where I have take care of everything while you're gone on your ship. Again."_

"_Lighten up Loghain," Maric patted his hand on Loghain's shoulder. "Nothing urgent is happening anyways. Plus, I left you a nice scotch in the palace stores."_

_Loghain raised his eyebrows._

"_15 years," said Maric._

"_15 years?" Loghain would never admit it, but he smiled a bit. He did love a good scotch. He leaned back in his chair and chuckled. Perhaps a little peace wouldn't hurt._

"_Ah, my lord, shall we begin the award ceremony?" asked Bann Abelard. He eyed around for Aedan, who was nowhere to be seen. He was however rather pleased with how far he had gotten in the tournament. All the nobles were gossiping about how well his son had done. _

"_Yes, good idea," said Cailan. "And by the way, I had no idea your son was such a terrific swordsman. Perhaps he and Cailan should spar some time? My son tends to think he'll just be good at fighting without practice."_

"_Ah, yes, sure," sputtered Bann Abelard. _

"_Ser Kyrael, please step forward."_

_The armored knight kneeled down on one knee, bowing before the king. __The familiar noise of a sword being drawn from the scabbard echoed in Loghain's ears. Years of battle experience led his hand instinctively to his scabbard. But years of peace slowed him. The fake Ser Kyrael ripped off his helmet as he lunged, sword drawn. Loghain reached his hand outwards to block the path. The look on his face painted what was on his mind. He knew he wouldn't make it in time._

_And in front of his eyes, Loghain saw the fake knight tackled mid-stab to the ground by another. The two armored men scuffled on the ground. Aedan uppercut with his leg straight into his opponent's face. As the fake Ser Kyrael stumbled backwards, he hastily threw a small bomb to the ground. The vial shattered, sending smoke spraying everywhere._

_"Guards, find him!" coughed Loghain through the grey haze. The smoke was thick and nauseous, leaving the guards stumbling for any sign of the would be assassin. However Aedan was close enough to the assassin that he could still see him go for the door. He gagged on the gas, his vision blurring._

_"No you don't." Aedan hurled a nearby shield it with all his strength. It struck the fleeing man in the back, causing him to stumble. He turned back round. _"_Let's have a proper match this time," seethed the knight, clenching his sword._

"_Gladly," said Aedan. __Their swords clashed in a blur of steel. Their helms collided as both swords pushed against one another. The assassin shoved Aedan off and lunged at him. Aedan parried the blow and took two steps backwards. He whipped the bomb he had stolen right at the attacker. It bounced off the helm harmlessly to the ground. _

"_...Shit," Aedan laughed weakly, "is that not how it works?"__Aedan's foe lept forward and struck his arm. Aedan winced and dropped his sword. The knight held his sword to Aedan's throat._

_"That didn't take long," laughed the assassin with a steely tone, "and your helm won't stop me like gutting you like the pig you are." Aedan backed away with his hands in air. His eyes darted around for an escape route, anything._"_I'm hurt," said Aedan._

"_Shut the hell up and stop moving."_

"_Let's be honest. A sword to the throat isn't something you try to lean into."_

"_Shut up," the man growled, and stop moving. Or else."_

_Aedan stepped to the right. The man followed. _"_Sorry," grinned Aedan. __With a roar Loghain lept from the smog and strangled the man in a hold. The man gasped for breath as Loghain breathlessly fumed, his face contorted in pure rage. The assassin's hands clawed at Loghain's arms, then went limp. He collapsed to the ground unconscious. Loghain wiped his brow. _"_Thank you boy for leading him towards me. I'm surprised you saw me through the smoke."_

"_What can I say? I'm a clever man," shrugged Aedan._

Loghain scowled."_Not clever enough. You're supposed to shake the bomb first." Loghain picked up the untriggered bomb and threw it back to Aedan._"_Oh," squeaked Aedan._

"_Idiot."_

* * *

><p>"Wasn't this tower supposed to be empty?"<p>

"Weren't you the one complaining we wouldn't see any action?"

"Ha...I guess you're right."

"Excuse me, why aren't we running away from the darkspawn?" asked the mage. Alistair and Aedan had found the man backed in a corner on the verge of being eaten alive by darkspawn. He was only too happy to accompany them. He was a little less happy to accompany them upstairs.

Aedan silenced the mage with a sharp look. He hugged the corner whilst the darkspawn turned their backs, making his way to a nearby ballista. He peeked over the ballista. Nine, no ten genlocks. Four hurlocks in a group to the left. Worth a shot.

Green and black swirled in a vial as Aedan shook it. Aedan lobbed it over to the darkspawn. A thick toxic gas exploded from the vial, sending the genlocks sprawling and coughing. A second bomb crashed to the ground. This time a burst of fire finished all the genlocks, igniting the noxious gas. The hurlocks hissed at Aedan and brandished their weapons. Aedan responded by slamming his fist down on the ballista. The wooden frame shook and shot a bolt into two of the hurlocks. Aedan leaped over the ballista and hurled his sword into the closest hurlock head. The last one lunged at him. Steel flashed, and the monster crumbled. Aedan stood over the corpse holding Nan's knife.

"Maker," breathed Alistair. Aedan strapped his knife back in. "What?" said Aedan. Alistair stared over at Aedan's massacre. Blood dripped from the walls. Burning carcasses lay scattered. In a few seconds Aedan accomplished what it usually took a troop of good soldiers to do. "Have you always been like that?" asked Alistair. Aedan shrugged and walked towards the next door.

At last the group reached the final set of stairs. "The beacon should be up here," the templar said, "so we should-" Alistair spotted blood running down the stairs. "-hurry," he finished. Aedan sprinted up the final steps and kicked open the door. Their eyes followed the river of blood to the middle of the room. There, bones crunching between its teeth, an ogre sat. It's head perked up at the opening of the doors.

"How the hell did it even get up the stairs?" croaked the mage. "It shouldn't even be able to fit through the stairway!"

The behomoth turned towards them and gave a menacing growl, blood spilling sloppily from its jagged teeth. It threw down it's dinner and beat its chest savagely, roaring towards the sky.

"Fuck."

The ogre took three giant strides towards the group. With each the mage trembled more and more. "Maker help us," he whispered.

"Alistair, protect the mage- we're going to need his firepower!" shouted Aedan. He slid between the ogre's legs, drawing his attention. The ogre's feet smashed behind him. Whilst the mage fired elemental bolts at the gore, Aedan kited the giant. "Come on, bring it!" taunted Aedan. He banged his sword against his shield. A low grumble sent a chill through Aedan's spine.

The ogre swatted Aedan against the wall. Aedan groaned as he felt two of his ribs break, but he had to keep going. He trembled and pushed himself off the ground, just in time for the ogre to return. The ogre slammed its fist down. Aedan sidestepped then stabbed the hand. He turned only to see the ogre's foot rushing toward him. Aedan flew into a pillar. Shattered armor clattered to the ground. Aedan wiped his bloodied mouth and moved into a defensive stance. His shield stood between him and certain death.

Just as the ogre was about to charge again, Gregory ripped at the darkspawn's leg. The ogre growled in annoyance, and shook its leg back and forth. After several tries, Gregory was thrown against the tower walls. The ogre approached Alistair and the mage, who nodded at Alistair. "Aedan, now!" shouted Alistair. The templar's shield crumbled beneath a blow from the ogre, and the force threw him to the ground.

Aedan's sword alit with a hot blaze of red and orange. Aedan's gaze fell upon the mage behind Alistair. The mage's hands glowed the same color as the fire. His lips silently moved as though muttering something. "Now would be a great time to help!" shouted Alistair.

Aedan spat blood at his feet."On the way." Aedan rushed at the ogre's legs. His sword sunk deep within it's tendons. The ogre screamed in agony. The entire room shook. Aedan's head rattled against his helm. The behemoth whirled around to try and swat Aedan once more. However, Aedan had already begun his retreat to a rather tall pile of crates.

His body shook with each approaching stomp. With several leaps Aedan made his way to the top of the crates. The ogre struck at the crates. Aedan kicked off the wall. Stone flew as the ogre fell to the ground. Aedan drove his sword right at the heart and he could smell the burning of flesh. Again he stabbed. The ogre shifted beneath him. Again. Again. Again.

The ogre lay still. Aedan panted heavily. He smelt the burnt meat, rank and rotten. He coughed blood against his helmet. "Still got a job to do," he muttered. He rolled off the body and made his way towards the beacon.

"Aedan, I got this-"

"I'm already here damn it, let me have this," said Aedan with a grim smile. He stumbled over to the fireplace. He stabbed it with his still burning sword. The beacon exploded with flame. The fire traveled upwards to the top of the tower, which alit with a burning fury.

"Let's get down there. The rest of the wardens will need all the help they can get," coughed Aedan.

"They're...retreating," stammered the mage.

"What the hell did you just say?"

The mage pointed out the window. Aedan staggered over. From there, he saw it. The torches of Loghain's troops, the brunt of the army, falling back.

"No," uttered Aedan. The king, the king's army, the Wardens, and-

"Duncan!" screamed Alistair, who ran towards the doorway. He screamed in agony. A darkspawn arrow protruded from his shoulder. Blood trickled from his knee as well. A familiar hiss began to fill the room as the darkspawn began to pour in. Aedan threw his helm into the crowd surrounding Alistair, drawing the darkspawn's attention. The arrows barraged Aedan's body. Aedan staggered backwards. His sword clattered to the ground. His knees fell.

"Loghain," gurgled Aedan though the blood in his mouth. The darkspawn stood over him. Aedans vision blurred and swirled around him. A sword was to his throat. A hurlock smiled down at him with razor sharp teeth. Both grotesque hands wrapped around the hilt. He lifted the sword upwards.

Aedan closed his eyes.


	8. Truth

**Part 1: Heroes**

_Chapter 8: Truth_

_"And this is the fine young man who saved me?" __The kings stood alongside Loghain and Aedan, observing the guards apprehending the assassin. The man, bound in shackles and gagged, was to be sent to the dungeons where he would be interrogated. While the guards hadn't determined the assassin's motives, the king's safety was their top priority. Now an armada of guards filled the room and closed the area off. The king seemed rather casual about all this; he smiled and shook Aedan's hand in his own. Perhaps assassinations occured quite often for him._

_"It was no problem," coughed Aedan, 'Sorry, I have a cold." __Aedan still had his visor on. As far as anyone could tell, he was Bann Abelard's son. He adjusted the visor just a bit more to hide his eyes._

_"So you won the tournament and saved my life? While sick? Thank the maker for men like you."_

_"Yes, well, I'm just going to make my way back to my room. Having some-"_

_Aedan leaned into Maric's ear._

_"Bowel distress."_

_Maric chuckled and shook Aedan's hand once more. "Take care of yourself then lad. I have a ship to catch."_

_Loghain turned to Aedan.__"Young man. What you did was reckless. Foolish," he said. __Loghain walked past Aedan in departure, but not before patting him once on the shoulder._

_"Good job."_

_At that moment, Aedan considered ripping off his helmet, revealing his true identity with a brilliant grin. He could go to the taverns, and people would throw him in the air and bring him a full keg of ale. Women would swoon as he walked by. Perhaps they'd even have a ceremony in his honor. The glory was rightfully his to claim._

_Loghain passed. Aedan's helmet remained. One by one, the nobles all cleared out of the reception room. Aedan glanced left to right. Nobody was around. He turned his back to the doorway and quickly made his way to the food table. He removed the helmet, letting the air flow against his sweaty hair and face. His hands grasped a croissant and stuffed it into his mouth._

_"This is literally the best croissant I've ever had," muttered Aedan to himself. Over the sound of his chewing and his eyes focusing on the cheeses, he did not notice Duncan and Maric watching from the open doorway. The two silently departed._

_"You knew that he wasn't the Bann's son, right?" said Duncan as he and the king walked._

_"Duncan, I'm not stupid," chuckled Maric._

_"What's the boy's name?"_

_"I believe that is Aedan Cousland."_

_"Hmmm." Duncan stroked his beard in contemplation and glanced once back at the young lad stuffing his face._

_"A potential recruit for your Wardens?" asked Maric. _

_Duncan smiled to himself. "Perhaps."_

* * *

><p><em>Awhile later, with the hazy orange of the sun dipping below the horizon, Aedan sat by the riverbank throwing rocks. He quietly watched the water ripple. There was one final matter to take care of: the bribe money he had stolen from his would be attacker. Should he turn it over to the authorities? Or perhaps keep it for himself?<em>

_"Hey," came a voice from behind. Aedan looked over his shoulder. A gangly young man about his age smiled at him. He was dressed in neat, tailored clothing, betraying his status as a noble. Unlike the others however, he did not have such a pompus demeanor. He sat down next to Aedan. He picked up a rock and skipped it across the water._

_"I'm Yates. Bann Abelard's son. The one you impersonated today?" _

_"Nice to finally meet you," said Aedan. He quietly rolled a small stone between his fingers._

_"Thanks...for what you did."_

_"You're going to be knee deep in woman you know," chuckled Aedan, who slapped Yates on the back. Yates weakly laughed._

_"You think so?"_

_"I was already down in the bar listening to some of the stories. Apparently you and Loghain fought off a small armada with your bare hands."_

_"I envy you, you know."_

_"Me? Don't worry, I can teach you to fight a bit if you need to."_

_"Not that. I saw your father in the stands. When you almost got so badly beaten by that one opponent, he walked over with a smile. No look of disappointment. My father has never believed in me. Not once."_

_The look on Yates face wrenched Aedan's heart. Aedan patted the young man on the back. __"Come on, there's got to be something you're good at."_

_Yates sighed. "You'd laugh."_

_"I promise I won't."_

_Yates rubbed his face, taking a deep breath in. __"I want to be a baker."_

_Aedan waited for the real answer in silence. After staring at the stern expression on Yate's face, he realized that the young noble was in fact serious._

_"Really?" _

_"I love the smell of bread rising in the oven, the feel of kneading bread in your hands. You remember the reception? Guess who baked the pastries and the bread."_

_"That was you?" Aedan still craved those buttery, crispy croissants. The fact Yates, the son of a noble, could do that amazed him._

_"Yeah. But my father says that being a baker is a lowly job that would disgrace our family name."_

_"Fuck him then. Go be a baker," said Aedan, whipping a rock straight across the river._

_"It's not like I can just run away and become a baker," sighed Yates, "I have no money of my own besides my father's. With an apprentice baker's wages, I couldn't even afford a wooden crate as a home."_

_"You wouldn't starve at least. Lot's of bread," joked Aedan._

_Yates chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so."_

_The coin purse Aedan had stolen earlier suddenly felt heavier. "What if...I gave you some start up funds."_

_"How much?"_

_"9999 sovereigns," said Aedan, who pocketed one sovereign before dropping the bag into Yates hands. The young noble gaped, dumbstruck._

_"I can't possibly-"_

_"Yes you can."_

_Aedan closed Yates' hands around the bag, grinning._

_"You make a damn good croissant."_

_Yates looked down at the bag, and back at Aedan. "Thank you. Truly."_

_"Just take it before I change my mind."_

_"Thank you! You're my hero!" cried Yates, who excitedly shook Aedan's hand.__"I've got to pack, and I need a escape plan, and-"_

_His voice tapered off. Yates had run back into the castle. __Aedan smiled sheepishly as he made his way to the tavern. __Inside, the bar clamored with talk. Ale spilled from tables. Men heartily laughed. Aedan smiled and took a seat. "Can I get you something?" asked the bartender._

_"Would this get me a glass of scotch?" said Aedan. He flipped the last sovereign into the bartender's hand. The bearded man handed him a filled glass._

_"No ale for you?"_

_Aedan chuckled as he took a lingering sip of his drink. __"I think I earned a nice drink for myself today."_

* * *

><p>Soft, feminine fingers traced against Aedan's chest. His eyes cracked open.<p>

"There we are. We were wondering when you'd finally wake up."

He sat up against the bedframe. The girl from the wilds stood in the corner. Stone scrapped against wood as she ground something in a bowl.

"Morrigan...right?"

"Hmm- you're faring better than the other one. As soon as he awoke he simply stared being paranoid."

Aedan attempted to get up, but the Morrigan pushed him back down. He groaned as pain shot through his shoulder. "Do you know what happened with the army? With Loghain?"

"Your army is dead. Your king is dead. The battlefield lays littered with their bodies, and the darkspawn swarm the area...feeding I believe. As for this Loghain fellow, I do not even know who he is."

"You don't know who Loghain is? The Hero of-" Aedan silenced himself. The title rolled sourly off his tongue. He rubbed his eyes, still woozy from waking up. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. You have done much for me."

"Much more civil than your friend as well. Perhaps he took a few too many blows to the head. But I suspect he has always been so...addled."

She scooped up a greenish mixture from the bowl. Aedan watched while she removed layers of bandages from his chest. Although it had taken several arrows, looked relatively unharmed. Only small scrapes and scabs remained.

"Your wounds have healed nicely. Mother's magic is quite effective," the witch said. Aedan detected tint of envy in her voice. The woman rubbed the ointment on his wounds. Aedan winced. Whatever the mixture was, it burned like nothing else, and smelt like garbage.

Aedan peered over at his right arm. The scars remained strong."What about my scars? They're fairly recent."

"They wouldn't heal. That took Mother by surprise," smiled Morrigan, amused by the idea that her mother's magic had failed at something.

"Any idea why?"

"I've heard an old wives' tale that scars with strong feelings will stay strong." Morrigan's hands traced the jagged scars that jutted down his arm. "Do you want them gone?"

"No."

"Good. They add character." Morrigan tossed him a ragged shirt, which he pulled over his head. She nodded towards the door."Tis time for you to leave."

"Already? Sure you don't want me to cause more trouble for your mother?"

"Hmm, as appealing that sounds, apparently she wishes to speak to you."

As Aedan picked himself off the bed, he scoured the room for his belongings. "Did you manage to salvage any of my gear?" He didn't actually touch anything, as it seemed impolite to just peruse through a stranger's home.

"Only what you had on you." Morrigan pointed at a chest by the foot the bed. Another one lay underneath the desk, but Aedan payed it no attention."There is some armor that we took off some bandits a while back in the corner. I doubt a ragged shirt shall provide you much protection."

Aedan peered into the chest. Nan's knife glinted at the bottom, leaning against his knapsack. He picked up the two with his hands. The jingle of the sword shards in his bag rung against his ears. It had become familiar to him now. The sound was surprisingly soothing.

Once he had finished strapping his gear, Aedan uttered," turned to face him. Aedan looked directly into her intoxicating yellow eyes, giving her the best smile he could muster at this point. He had been betrayed, beaten, broken, but he still had his manners."Thank you."

The faintest blush reddened Morrigan's pale cheeks. "I...You are welcome." She pushed open the door to reveal the noxious decrepit trees of the Wilds. The noxious swamp smell greeted Aedan as he exited the hut. Alistair sat by the toxic lakeside. With bags under his eyes, Alistair sat hunched looking off into the distance. It reminded Aedan of how he seemed only a few days ago: catatonic and silent. Aedan hesitated a moment before calling out, "Alistair."

The templar whipped around. "You're alive," breathed Alistair, "Thank the maker!" He bear-hugged his fellow Warden, who didn't expect such a display of affection. He returned the man's hug and chuckled, "Perhaps we should be thanking Morrigan's mother instead. She was the one who rescued us."

"Yes, if not for Morrigan's mother, we might have been two more corpses in that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not here," creaked the old woman, stepping out of the shadows of her hut. Aedan jumped a bit; he hadn't seen the woman just standing there. Her very prescence unnerved him, and she still wore that unsettling smile.

"I'm sorry...we just never caught your name," said Aedan, bowing to her.

"You may call me Flemeth."

Both Aedan and Alistair did a double take."The Flemeth...of the legends?", whispered Alistair, "So...you are a Witch of the Wilds then!"

"So what if I am? I saved you two, didn't I?"

"She right. If she wanted to have killed us by now, she would have. Besides-" Aedan recalled Loghain bitterly as he said, "Stories hardly ever hold the truth."

He looked at Flemeth. She stared off into the distance, admiring a flying hawk in the sky.

"Why did you save us?"

"Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens of Fereldan dying, now can we? Fereldan must stand united against the coming Blight, and it will need the Wardens to do so."

"We're hardly united, thanks to Loghain!", growled Alistair, who clenched his fist.

"Why would Loghain do something like this?"

"Men's hearts hold shadows greater than any tainted creature," whispered Flemeth knowingly.

Despite his question, Aedan could think of several reasons why Loghain did what he did. Perhaps a power grab, or aybe he thought he could stop the blight better than the Wardens. Or perhaps he didn't want his men to die in a foolish battle.

Aedan never thought Loghain would stoop so low as betrayal, nor did he think he would commit it on such a large scale. But then again, he was only a man.

"But your foolish politician does not comprehend the true threat behind the Blight."

"The archdemon," said Alistair.

Aedan had only heard fables and stories about the Archdemon. Winged, corrupted, and as deadly as several armies, the creature inhabited the nightmares of many a man and woman. To defeat it seemed insurmountable."Alistair, do you know how to defeat the Archdemon?"

"No, I'm a junior Warden, they hadn't divulged that information to me yet. Duncan-"

The templar paused, his voice trembling. Alistair hid his face to hide a stream of tears."Maker, it's hopeless. We don't know how to kill the Archdemon, we've been abandoned by Fereldan, and we don't even have any troops to stop the Blight," he mumbled.

It dawned on Aedan. His hands fumbled within his pack. Ancient, weathered, and dusty against his fingers, he held in his hands the ancient treaties of long ago."The treaties. You knew," breathed Aedan to Flemeth.

Flemeth gave a flamboyant bow and cackled."I assumed the worst would happen. Unlike many men in Thedas, I choose to think ahead."

"What?"said Alistair, who cleaned his face with his hand.

"The ancient treaties which Flemeth kept safe." Aedan thumbed through the papers carefully. "Here's one for Orzammar. And another with the Dalish. And one more from the mages."

Alistair's face beamed with hope. "Of course! The treaties! We could go to each of these groups and ask for troops!"

"It might not be that easy. Loghain no doubt will be doing damage control, twisting what happened in the battle to his favor." Aedan gripped the treaties tightly as he said the next words. "We need to take him down."

"We could go to Arl Eamon for political help."

"The Arl of Redcliffe?"

"I know him, he's a good man. He will help us," reassured Alistair.

"I may be old, but dwarfs, mages, elves, this Arl Eamon, this sounds like an army to me," said Flemeth.

"So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and build an army?" asked Alistair. He looked at Aedan for the answer. Aedan was puzzled as to why Alistair, the senior of the two, would think Aedan would have the answer. So he gave the best one he could.

"I don't know," muttered Aedan, mulled in thought.

"Now now, no need for doubt young man," said Flemeth, "Go build your army." She smiled and with disdain and mockery chuckled, "Who knows, perhaps at the end of it all , they'll tell tales of the dashing Hero of Ferelden." Her eyes bored into Aedan's.

_She's right to be disdainful,_ thought Aedan. Because at the end of the day, what had these so called heroes of legend done?

Duncan, who killed an innocent man without a second thought.

Loghain, who had betrayed all the Warden's and the King's army.

The king, who had led his army into a suicidal mission for the sake of glory.

Howe, the uncle he had looked up to and loved, slaughtered his family.

The stories that Aedan had grown up on were just that. Stories. Fantasies that held no truth in reality. The truth was as Flemeth had said. Men's hearts held shadows greater than any tainted creature. Everything Aedan held dear had burned away. His family and home had been engulfed by the flames of envious men. His idols burned away by the truth. He had no more heroes to rely on, and all Aedan wielded was a kitchen knife and a broken sword.

The noble with a kitchen knife, betrayed by the greatest hero Ferelden had known. It sounded like a bad story.

A chuckle escaped his lips.

Flemeth's eyes alit. She cackled. He cackled back. Aedan and the old witch burst out into hysterics. Flemeth wiped away a tear whilst Aedan leaned on his knees. Their bodies shook as they chortled. With everything they had, they laughed. Laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all, the despair, the irony. Laughed at how the world tossed them about. Alistair stood bewildered. Morrigan peeked over from her soup with intrigue.

"Finally, someone who appreciates my sense of humor. Perhaps you wish to stay?" grinned Flemeth, who wiped away a tear before smiling at Aedan again. That stare again- sinister and soul wrenching. Her question held truth. The world was gunning against him, had taken everything from him. He had been battered. He had been broken. Perhaps it would be better if he kept his head down, out of trouble.

The words of his father rang in his head from long ago.

"_It is so easy to stay down, to just quit. Every man will be knocked down at some point in his life. But a strong man, a good man, will get back up no matter what happens."_

Aedan smiled bittersweetly. He had been left with enough.

"No."

His finger wiped away a single tear."I need to get back to work," he stated resolutely. Flemeth nodded slightly, never breaking eye contact.

"Alright, but before you go, I have one thing to ask of you. Morrigan dear!"

"I'm right here Mother," grumbled the raven haired mage, "the stew is bubbling mother, shall we have two guests for the eve or none?"

"No, the Wardens shall be leaving. You will be joining them."

"What a sham- what?"

"You are still young- your hearing has not yet been shot like mine. You hear what I said girl."

Aedan calculated the situation in his head. A mage would certainly prove useful. Flemeth seemed particularly interested in stopping this blight- she had rescued the last two wardens and preserved the treaties. No doubt she would invest further to see this through, but there had to be catch. Like any politician, like any person, there was always a hook. With only two wardens and a dog however, Aedan couldn't play politics. He needed all the firepower he could get.

"I think that's an excellent idea," he said.

"Do I have no say in this?" exclaimed Morrigan. She seemed irate at her Mother's interference and growled at the older woman.

"You have been itching to get out the Wilds for years. Here is your chance."

"This is not how I wanted this Mother, I'm not even ready!"

"Morrigan. They alone must unite Fereldan against the Blight. They need you, or they, along with everyone else shall perish. Including me," said Flemeth somberly. She gazed at Morrigan and nodded once.

"I..."Morrigan glanced once at Flemeth. Her eyes darted towards Aedan. She sighed, "Very well."

"And you, Aedan."

Shivers went down his spine when Flemeth uttered his name. The first time she had addressed him as such.

"I entrust to you that which I hold above all else in this world. I do this because you must succeed. Do you understand?"

Aedan nodded grimly. "I'll keep her safe."

After Morrigan had packed all her things, the group began the trek to Lothering, a small village nearby. From there they could resupply and gather information. As they began to enter the forest. Aedan took one last look at the old woman standing by the hut. She stood smiling as always. Aedan glanced at Morrigan. She too had taken one last glance at her home, before quickly snapping her head back and muttering something beneath her breath.

"What was so funny?" whispered Alistair to Aedan, "Back there with Flemeth?"

Aedan paused before uttering one bittersweet word.

"Heroes."

* * *

><p>PART 1 END<p>

* * *

><p>End of the first part, which is in my opinion sort of the prologue to the entire story. As always, reviews and comments are welcome.<p>

For those who are wondering, the next part is going to be titled Fear.


	9. Refuel

**Part 2: Fear**

_Chapter 9: Refuel_

"Are you going to eat the soup or not?"

Morrigan groaned as the templar mulled over his bowl. Alistair eyed Morrigan, then his soup, then Morrigan again. He narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you haven't poisoned this? Or put some kind of weird Witch of the Wild's herb that'll make me itch?"

As Morrigan and Alistair bickered, Aedan chewed the boiled rabbit between his teeth. The meat tasted simple and lacked in flavor. He took another swig of his soup. Morrigan had hastily thrown some meat and vegetables she had seen lying close around. Flavor did not concern her at this juncture. Aedan didn't blame her- they had more to worry about then herbs and spices.

Aedan downed the last of his soup. He had not eaten a warm meal in awhile. "Yes, my mother rescued the last two wardens from the darkspawn horde just so I could kill them with soup. You are a very astute young man. Congratulations," sneered Morrigan.

"Sorry, it's just that my templar training has taught me to be bit weary of..."

Morrigan glared at Alistair. "Of what? Say it."

Alistair hesistated. He let the word escape his lips:"Apostates."

Morrigan seethed at Alistair, "Yes, perhaps you should be weary of your soup from now on."

"She threatening me- you see she's threatening me," complained Alistair. He poked Aedan's shoulder repeatedly. Aedan ignored Alistair's pleas. He held his bowl out. "Seconds," he muttered. Morrigan smiled with victory over Alistair. She scooped another portion up for Aedan. As she passed the bowl to Aedan, their fingers briefly touched. _Cold_, thought Aedan, _soft and cold._

As Aedan continued his second portion, Alistair stood up."Going to go do some manly business right over there by that bush if you don't mind."

"I'll mind depending on whether your manly business smells," Aedan said.

Alistair pointed to a bush farther down. "Going to go do some manly business right over there by that bush if you don't mind."

Aedan sipped his soup. "I don't mind."

The templar scurried off.

"Apparently I do not frighten you as much?" mused Morrigan, "Now why is that?"

"Why should I be? I've seen you tangle with some the darkspawn we passed by- you seem in control of your powers," stated Aedan.

"Really. I would think my prowess in battle would frighten people. Once when I showed a villager my magic, he ran away screaming. Thought I would burn his village down."

Aedan flinched. "Don't need magic to do that," he said, poking the fireplace with his stick. "I am just as likely to die from demons and fireballs as likely as I am to be stabbed in the back by swords."

"Well, I hope you're not just being agreeable for agreement's sake."

"Oh you'll just love it when we get to Denerim. Politicians everywhere. You thought wading through the swamp was bad, wait till you see their bullshit. Besides, I speak from experience."

"You have much experience with magic?"

"No, just getting stabbed in the back," stated Aedan bitterly. He brushed away the thoughts of Castle Highever and Ostagar. Now wasn't the time for that. Before Morrigan could inquire further, Alistair stumbled out of the bushes. "Is that where we're heading first?" asked Alistair as he returned from the loo, "Denerim?"

"Not sure yet. I want to gauge the situation once we reach Lothering. No doubt the country is in a politcal upheaval right now. With Cailan dead, leadership will no doubt fall to Anora- which means to Loghain. We need to be careful."

Aedan held his bowl above his mouth, letting the last savory drops fall in.

* * *

><p>The group had encountered little trouble outside of Lothering, save for a few bandits. Morrigan had wanted to fry them, but Aedan had spared their lives and scared them off.<p>

"Well Warden, what is our first order of business here?" asked Morrigan. "I have everything I need from the Wilds, so the rest is up to you."

"First order of business when entering a town?" mused Aedan, "To the bar of course."

"Oh good, perhaps your depression will take the form of alcoholism, instead of insufferable jokes and puns like Alistair."

"You misunderstand. The bartender is usually the best place to get information in a small town. Haven't you been in a bar?"

"Only briefly before the stench drove me away."

Alsitair spotted two templars at the entrance to the town. "Quick, hide your staff," he whispered to Morrigan.

"Yes, because I'm stupid enough to walk right past the templars with a staff," said Morrigan.

"Well, then hide it!"

"Hide what?" smirked Morrigan. Alistair blinked and Morrigan vanished. In her place, a small dog panted anxiously. Gregory barked loudly at Morrigan, who growled in return. The war dog whimpered and scampered to Aedan's side. The warden chuckled and tousled the top of his dog's head. At least he still had Gregory. Despite Morrigan's disguise, the group quieted as they marched past the templars.

Wooden shacks and stone houses lay scattered across the gentle sloping hills of Lothering. Refugees stumbled around in huddled groups. Despite the small nature of Lothering, the crowd of refugees overflowed on downtrodden dirt weary eyes and parched lips troubled Aedan as he passed by.

A girl with muddied blond hair approached Aedan with hands open. "Please, ser, spare some change? I've lost everything."

His hand wavered for a moment. They needed all the copper they could for supplies and food. He had only managed to procure a little from Ostagar and the bandits. Quickly, whilst Morrigan and Alistair were turned away, he took the girl aside out of sight of other refugees. Aedan placed several coppers into the girl's hand. He held her hands in his and closed her thin fingers around the coin."Here, get some food."

The girl smiled sadly and gazed into his eyes. Her tired eyes teared up. "You've lost something too, haven't you?" she whispered. Aedan did not answer, and turned back to Morrigan and Alistair before they had noticed his absence.

"Thank you," croaked the small voice behind his back.

* * *

><p>"Hey, hey, I think that's one of Loghain's men," whispered Alistair as Aedan pushed open the tavern door. Several armored men sat a table, with the townspeople looking anxiously at them. It wasn't often people dared to brandish weapons in a public tavern.<p>

Aedan and Alistair sat down at the bar, facing away from Loghain's men. The company, however approached the two. Alistair nervously glanced behind his back, while Aedan signaled to the bartender for a beer.

"Well well, look what we have here," said the captain,"Spitting image of the posters Loghain told us to put up. And yet everyone here said they hadn't seen him."

The captain sinisterly looked at all the villagers in the room. Some trembled, fearing what could come. The grizzled man slammed a wanted poster onto the bar's table. Aedan's drink shook and tiny droplets fell on the bar's surface.

"What the hell are you talking about," growled Alistair, "Why are we wanted?"

Aedan glanced behind him. One in the back. Two sitting down.

"The Grey Wardens. Don't tell me you bastards have forgotten what you did to Cailan. You betrayed your king and country, sending the King to his doom and then running like cowards."

"Wait a sec, you think we did that? That's ridiculous, Loghain was the one who left Cailan to die."

Aedan gripped his ale.

"How dare you speak of the Hero of River Dane in such as manner, whelp."

"Gentleman, please," cooed a charming Orlesian voice. A sister had stepped forward, glowing with calm. Gently parted red hair almost covered the beautiful woman's smile. "There is not need for trouble. These are no doubt lost souls seeking refuge."

"Do you take us for fools? Their faces are clearly on the poster, and they are armed. Now stay out of our way Sister, or you'll receive the same punishment."

"Resorting to threatening Sisters?" Aedan sipped his drink and stared at the wall. "Let's just calm down, shall we?"

"Enough fooling around. Get out of my way, whore," snarled the captain, who brushed Leliana aside. He drew his sword and held it at the back of Aedan's neck. Aedan took another sip. "Care to help Morrigan?" muttered Aedan. Morrigan lept out from under the table and sunk her teeth into the captain's leg. The man staggered backwards, cursing. Aedan threw his drink into the face of another attacker. His fist met the man's soaked face. Blood splattered against Aedan's fist. Alistair grabbed another from behind and threw him to the ground. He kicked the man in his delicates, repeatedly, just for good measure.

Two men drew their daggers, and lunged towards Aedan. He flinched for a moment, unable to dodge. The sister dashed in front of them, delivering an expert series of quick punches and kicks to the men. Within a few seconds they lay on the ground groaning. Aedan raised his eyebrow, impressed. He whipped his sword from his scabbard, knocking the captain's to the ground and slicing his cheek. The man stumbled against the wall. Aedan bashed his hilt against the captain's nose. The man reeled on the ground, holding his face. Aedan grabbed the man by his hair and slammed him against the wall.

"I want you to take a message to Loghain," seethed Aedan. He tightened his grip on the man's hair. The man whimpered in agony.

"Alive?" whimpered the captain. Aedan hit the man's face against the wall again.

"Unless the dead can walk, then yes, alive. Tell Loghain we know the truth. And that we're coming to him."

The captain nodded frantically. "Good," said Aedan. He dragged the man to the entrance of the bar. With several swift tosses, the men of Loghain's troop landed in a heap. When Aedan returned into the bar, he ignored the whispers and glances of the townsfolk. He took his previous spot and signaled to the barkeep for another ale.

"Sorry about," said Aedan.

"Don't worry. Those men were a right bunch of bastards anyway. Strutting around and asking for free drinks." The bartender uncorked the cask and let the ale flow into Aedan's mug. "I personally don't believe that the Grey Wardens would ever do such a thing. Doesn't make any sense." He handed Aedan the mug and smiled. "On the house."

"Thanks," said Aedan. _I didn't have enough money anyways_, he thought, relieved. The two men briefly chatted over current events and the like, whilst Alistair procured some goods from a local merchant within.

"So, there might be demons in the Tower of Magi?" stated Aedan incredulously.

"Hey, that's just what I heard. People make up all sorts of stories," said the bartender, "But if demons ever were to pop up anywhere, it'd be at that damn mage tower."

"Thanks for info," said Aedan, who got up and left his empty glass. He approached the Sister, who for some reason was simply waiting nearby. Aedan pulled out a chair for her at a nearby table. "So, tell me where does a sister learn to fight like that?"

The woman smiled and sat down, but not before brushing the dirt off the seat. "I was not always a sister, just as you were not always a Grey Warden," she said.

"Pretty sure Aedan popped out of his mother sword and shield in hand," Alistair joked as he walked over. He looked around to the other three for approval. None laughed. "I'll just go sit in the corner," he sulked.

"You are Grey Wardens, correct?" Leliana held up the poster. True to the captain's word, the face was uncannily his and Alistair's. What was remarkable was the level of detail that Alistair's face had. Aedan wondered why Loghain would have such a good rendition of Alistair.

"That would be the case," said Aedan. He had no way to lie out of this.

"Good. Then I am coming with you."

It took several moments for Aedan to exactly register what the sister had said. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You will need all the help you can, am I right?" said the woman.

"And why would a sister wish to come with us?" asked Alistair.

Leliana smiled innocently."Oh. That's easy, the Maker told me too."

Aedan and Alistair looked at each other with confusion.

* * *

><p>"We will just need to stop by the Chantry for my things," said the sister. The four had left the bar, and now headed down the dirt path towards the Chantry.<p>

"And who is this little fella?" Leliana cooed at Morrigan, still in dog form.

"Please don't," said Aedan.

"You really don't-" exclaimed Alistair, but he was too late. Leliana had picked up Morrigan by the arms and lifted her up into the air. Both wardens cringed at the coming pain.

"Look at her! She's so cute and adorable! I could just snuggle her," Leliana nuzzled the dog close to her and shook around."Who's a good girl! Who's a- Ow!"

Morrigan lept to the floor. Leliana rubbed her bleeding shoulder. "Is she not trained?" asked Leliana whilst Morrigan barked loudly at her. Leliana tried to shoo off Morrigan, but she continued to harass Leliana. Aedan stepped in between the two and made a desperate nod towards the templars. Morrigan hid behind Aedan and quieted down. "Her name is Morrigan. She's our mage," explained Aedan.

Leliana did a double take. She looked at the growling dog, then back to Aedan with disbelief. She looked to Alistair, who nodded his head sorrowfully. "Wait. She's a- human?"

"She shapeshifts."

"Oh." Lelliana looked at Morrigan, "Well, sorry. Did you really have to bite me though?"

"You were squeezing the life out of her," chuckled Aedan.

"Should I assume your other dog is a mage as well?" asked Leliana. Gregory playfully wagged his tail and barked. Leliana tentatively held her hand out.

"No, he's just a dog. Just one question Sister-"

"Please, call me Leliana."

"Alright Leliana, what's that man doing there in a cage?" Aedan pointed in the direction of a solitary cage near the outskirts of town. There inside sat a man much larger than any Aedan had ever seen. Rags adorned the man. Aedan had taken notice of his callouses on both hands. Those hands had wielded swords.

"Ah, the qunari. He has been sentenced to death for murder. He has been in that cage for quite some time without food."

Aedan peered at the qunari. The ragged behemoth meditated quietly. Chiseled muscles and scars ran along his body."So these qunari, they're good with weapons right?"

Alistair breathed in sharply and whipped around. "Aedan, there's a limit to how much people we can take along." Alistair moved in closer. "Along with how many crazies," whispered Alistair to his ear.

"I'm not crazy," pouted Leliana, "The Maker really did speak to me! He sent me a message through a dream!"

Whilst Alistair and Leliana argued over semantics, Aedan approached the man in the cage.

"Leave me in peace," muttered the qunari, who stared blankly at Aedan.

"Who are you?" asked Aedan.

"I am Sten of the Beresaad- the vanguard of the qunari people."

Aedan bowed slightly with his head and said, "Pleased to meet you Sten."

"Manners. I have not seen these yet in your lands," replied Sten.

"You seem like you can handle a sword well."

"I can. I cannot say the same of you."

Aedan glared at the qunari. He held back a scornful comment and grinned. "As such, how would you feel about getting out of there?"

"And why would you do that?" asked the Qunari. Despite his suspicion, the qunari leaned forward against his bars.

"I am sworn to protect this land against the Blight. I need all the help I can get right now."

The qunari eyed Aedan up and down."You? You are a Grey Warden?" He scoffed. "They say the Wardens are warriors of great renown. Clearly they were mistaken."

"Thank you for such kind compliments. I 'll be sure to take them to heart," said Aedan with sarcasm dripping from his voice. His tone turned serious when he asked, "Now answer the question. You want out or not?"

Sten quieted. His calloused hands wringed against the bars in contemplation. He eyed the group distrustfully, his gaze leaping from one to another. After some time, Sten had his answer.

"If you can manage to free me, then I shall help you on your task."

* * *

><p><em>"How was the tournament you two?" cooed Eleanor. It had been several weeks since the events of the tournament. Bryce, as Teyrn of Highever, had to deal with the fallout. After the sudden disappearance of Yates, Bann Abelard had been thrown into disarray. Negotiating with him had to wait while the Bann searched for his son. Once he had cooled down, Bryce and Abelard concluded their business.<em>

_There had been no sign of Yates since the tournament. Aedan thought it was smart for the young man to lay low for awhile._

_Eleanor hugged her husband and her son tightly. "Didn't get into much trouble did we?"_

_The two men exchanged a knowing look._

_"Not really," said Aedan._

_"Good! I heard the king ran into some sort of trouble there, but it got sorted out somehow. I'm a little fuzzy on the details. Came down the grapevine."_

_"Nothing our little boy couldn't handle," chuckled Bryce. He stretched his arms upwards, groaning as he cracked his back. "I think I'm going to retire to the bedroom. I've missed the comfort of my own bed."_

_"Is that the only thing you've missed the comfort of?" whispered Eleanor seductively to his ear. The couple giggled and intertwined their fingers. Their lips brushed against each other as Aedan gagged._

_"I'm going to go over to the kitchen. Far far away," he groaned. Bryce and Eleanor laughed at their son and made their way towards their bedroom._

_"Nan!" yelled Aedan, "You in the kitchen?"_

_"No need to shout little one, I'm right here," smiled the old woman. She lay out a warm bowl of beef stew in front of him, with biscuits on the side._

_"Have I ever told you are best person ever?" The young man smiled and grabbed a handful of biscuits._

_"Have I ever told you that you are the most gluttonous man ever?" smiled Nan sweetly as Aedan stuffed the food in his mouth._

_"Repeatedly," spoke Aedan through his food. His chewing slowed and quieted. Aedan had been contemplating an idea whilst traveling back home._

_"Nan, you go into town a lot, right?"_

_"Despite what you might think, we do not own a magic cupboard full of ingredient," said Nan._

_"Do you know anybody that could train me?"_

_Nan paused. Her hands lay still in her dish cleaning basin._

_"Train you? For what?"_

_"So, I went to the tournament today, and I realized something. If I had a difficult time with those sheltered knights, how would I hold up in an actual fight? Father would never let me get a trainer that's actually tough on me, who would show me the ropes."_

_Aedan thought back to the man's sword at his throat. How his heart had beat wildld against his chest. How the sweat had dripped down his forehead. How he had been so afraid of dying._

_"And why do you need to be good at fighting?"_

_"You know, I really don't like being a politician. Fergus is going to be the head of the Cousland house once Father steps down. So what am I going to do with my life? There are people out there following their dreams Nan!"_

_He looked down at his food and swallowed some stew._

_"I don't want to just be sitting around, living off of someone else, living a life of no meaning."_

_A smile flickered on Nan's face. She remembered a little boy who could barely reach above the table, clawing at his father's sword._

_"Unfortunately, you're on your own for that. All I know are the people who grow our vegetables."_

_The door slammed open. Aedan knocked his plate over in surprise. The shattered porcelain clattered on the ground._

_"My lord, my lord," gasped Ser Gilbert, who rested his hand against the wall._

_"Gilbert, what the hell is wrong?" asked Aedan._

_"The king-"_

_"The king is safe. He was saved from an assassin," said Aedan. He paused while Ser Gilbert caught his breath. The man's shocked expression had not changed. Aedan furrowed his brow."He's safe right?"_

_"No," panted Ser Gilbert, "He's been lost at sea."_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

_Hey there, sorry for the later then usual update. Been a little hectic lately, also Diablo 3 came out. If you noticed, the flashback story continues right from where the previous story left off, and will continue to do so. As usual, reviews are welcome!_


	10. Solutions

**Part 2: Fear**

_Chapter 10: Solutions_

Aedan grumbled as the party entered the Chantry.

"Are you grumbling?" Leliana gave him a suspicious look. Her hands were placed squarely on her hips as she halted in mid walk. Aedan got the feeling he didn't want to tell Leliana the truth.

"No no," lied Aedan, "It's just my stomach. You know, Grey Wardens having big appetites and all." He laughed half heartedly and rubbed his stomach.

"Didn't you just eat?"

"We do have big appetites." Alistair rubbed his stomach and grinned. Leliana turned away, her curiosity satisfied. Morrigan barked playfully at Aedan. If dogs could sinisterly grin, the look on Morrigan's face was just that. "Quiet you," Aedan muttered. Morrigan scampered off outside of the Chantry. Apparently she enjoyed it as much as he.

The lit candles flickered against the walls. The sun had begun to set outside. The last rays of light began to fade from the tinted glass. Inside, people kneeled in prayer. A low constant whisper lingered in Aedan's ears.

"Maker, keep my family saf-"

"Andraste, praise thy nam-"

"Give us guidance in this tim-"

"-save us."

Aedan couldn't help but grimace at all the desperate people. They, like him, had lost everything, but at least he could defend himself.

Dirty footprints and mud littered the inner hallway. The group came to a slighter cleaner area, filled with books and ancient relics. The Revered Mother sat reading, her hair tied in neat buns, her robe neatly falling down her thin, aging figure. She smiled as Leliana approached. "Ah, Leliana, there you are. Shall you be joining us for the Chant tonight?"

The Revered Mother noticed the bloodied scrapes on Leliana's robes. "Ah. So you have found warriors to travel with I see." The woman sighed and put down her book.

"Yes." Leliana smiled bittersweetly. The Revered Mother stood up and held her arms open to Leliana. The redhaired sister embraced the Revered Mother. "I have never known such peace as I have found here. But I must go." Leliana's eyes moistened.

The Revered Mother smiled and planted a single kiss on Leliana's forehead. "Then go my child. And always remember that you carry the Maker in your heart. You will never be too far from us."

Leliana bowed and left to retrieve her things. The Revered Mother turned to Aedan. "And who might you be, that Leliana trusts to travel with?"

"We are Grey Wardens," said Aedan. The Revered Mother shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Ah, that is...troublesome. You have heard the news of what your order has done."

"They are lies and slander from Teyrn Loghain, to cover up his betrayal."

The woman nodded. "Very well. I am old enough to know that the game of politics is a complicated one. I shall take your word as long as you do not cause trouble."

Leliana returned clad in worn leather armor. Aedan spotted several daggers strapped to the young woman- one to her arm, another to her boot, another up higher along her thigh-

"And just where are you looking, hmmm?" giggled Leliana at Aedan. He blushed and coughed into his hand."Anyways, I wanted to ask you something Revered Mother. I'd like to have the qunari released into my care."

The Revered Mother glared at him. "That man is a murderer. Regardless of whatever purposes you Wardens may have for him, I do not wish to have the blame of his next victims on my hands."

"Please," pleaded Aedan, "The Blight is coming. For every darkspawn the qunari slays whilst with us, that is another victim spared from their clutches. Another step which brings us closer to ending this damn thing."

A sigh escaped the Revered Mother's lips. "Leliana, what do you think of this?" The old woman turned to Leliana. The sister hesitated. "Can we trust your new friend?"

Leliana resolutely nodded. "These are strange times, but with Aedan, the qunari may do some good for Fereldan."

The Revered Mother held out a rusty key in her hand. "Very well. He is your charge now."

* * *

><p>"<em>Quiet!" Loghain struggled to keep his cool amidst the sea of squabbling politicians.<em>

"_I said QUIET!"_

_The nobles silenced. Only the creak of the benches beneath the weight of all the nobles filled the silence. Aedan sat in the general seating area the farthest away. At the centre table saw Loghain, his father, and several other Arls. As Teyrns, Bryce and Loghain possessed authority second only to the king. A king whose seat now lay absent._

_Weeks had passed since the King was supposed to arrive at his destination. Weeks had passed since word from him. In those few weeks chaos had been brewing. And now it had been let loose: Loghain had called the Landsmeet earlier this year to deal with ever despondent situation._

"_Have we heard any more news Loghain?" asked Bryce. _

_Loghain wringed his hands. "Reports from Antiva have come in. They have found the wreckage of the boat that he sailed on- along with several dead bodies. None of them are Maric's. " Loghain wrinkled his brow in worry. Any last remnants of his youthful appearance had vanished, leaving only a man consumed by stress._

"_Loghain, it's been a month since he was supposed to dock. And with this news, we have to assume-". Loghain whipped around to Arl Eamon, fury in his eyes. "He's not dead!" Loghain slammed his fist down upon the table. It shook beneath his blow and rattled the very floor. _

_The cries and bickering of the nobles erupted with this news. Loghain stood up and raged, "Maric wouldn't die from some silly storm! It must have been the damn Antivans! They must have taken him or something! They-"_

"_Loghain." Arl Eamon placed his hand on the man's shoulder. Loghain leaned against the table. His gaze fell to the floor. Aedan could only imagine what the man was thinking. Aedan had heard the rumors of how he had loved Maric's bride, who died shortly after Cailan's birth. And now his best friend had died. _

_After a few moments of silence, Loghain sat down at the table. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "What do you suggest Eamon?"_

"_For now, Fereldan needs a strong leader to keep it in check. As Teyrns, you and Bryce will need to take up any unfinished matters Maric had, and keep the kingdom in check."_

"_And then what?"_

"_Cailan and Anora will assume the throne." Loghain's expression softened at the mention of his daughter. _

"_Is Cailan even ready to ascend the throne? He's still only a young man," interjected one Arl. Other nobles murmured in discontent._

"_He's about as young as Maric was," Loghain begrudgingly admitted, "but much less experienced. I will see to it that he is ready. And besides, he will not be alone."_

_Loghain smiled at his daughter from a distance. Anora stood in the crowds amongst the nobles. Unlike Cailan, she had chosen to attend, as she was somewhat enthusiastic about the political scene._

"_All those in favor?"_

_There was no other choice but for the nobles to raise their hands. The blood of King Calenhad had to live on._

_It had always been a strange concept to Aedan, why the king had to be of the same lineage. It made sense symbolically: a common ancestry around which to unite the people. But what if the successor turned out to be some sort of lazy corrupt fool. Cailan certainly wasn't that, but he certainly was no Maric either. He had not freed his country, he had no formal combat experience, and had very little experience in the political world._

_He eyed Anora. A thin, beautiful woman with radiant blond hair that fell to her shoulders, but her professional aura stood out the most: how she stood, how she spoke, even the way she breathed. Aedan had seen her in court many times before, although never had the pleasure of meeting her. She was always discussing the latest the matters of the court with the Arls and Banns, and frequently impressed them with her solutions and knowledge._

_As he looked around the room, he noticed that some of those with raised hands did so with sour expressions. They all had a number of reasons to be displeased. Anora and Loghain, after all, were of common blood. Although King Calenhad's legacy would be preserved, other noble's would have preferred their own daughters to that of an inferior commoner. But Loghain had always been Maric's right hand man, and had arranged the marriage since long ago. Furthermore, no other woman, noble or common alike, could rule the country better than Anora._

"_I think that's enough for today," grumbled Loghain, "We shall reconvene tomorrow to discuss further matters. The Landsmeet is dismissed."_

_The rabble of nobles carried on as they slowly proceeded out the doors._

"_Aedan!" His father came walking over with Fergus, who had been seated much closer to the table. As the next in line, Fergus needed to make his presence seen and heard more. Aedan envied his brother's seating near the main table. _

_"Your brother and I have some business to attend to with Arl Eamon. Do you think you can stay out of trouble for a couple of hours?"_

"_In Denerim, Father?" __Aedan grinned, _"_Probably not."_

* * *

><p>"Thank you for vouching for us Leliana." Aedan pushed open the doors of Chantry. Night had almost fallen- Aedan wanted to make camp soon. "It was no problem," replied the Sister.<p>

"If I may ask, why? You barely know us."

Before Leliana could respond, an anguished howl ruptured through the air. Outside,

"The end is nigh! The Blight approaches! It shall consume your wives and children!" ranted a Chasind man. Ragged and bloodied, the man staggered around from refugee to refugee. He howled at each of them, speaking of despair and death.

"Ah! AH!" he cried, pointing his quivering finger at Aedan. "He is marked by them! The darkness is within him!"

The townspeople glanced suspiciously towards Aedan. Children huddled against their mother's legs. Aedan took a step back from the Chasind man. He smiled and raised his hands in protest. "I am not one of them. Do I look sick or tainted?"

"I can feel it! I can sense it. That lingering scent of rot and darkness..." The man tapered off as he gazed in horror into the distance. His eyes clouded over as he relived memories within his head. Aedan felt sorry for the man. Judging by his appearance, he had come from near Ostagar. Aedan approached him and stilled the man's shaking arms.

"You poor man. What happened?"

The man teared up. "I watched...I watched as all I love was slaughtered. As the darkspawn tore at their innards. As they dragged my wife and daughter screaming away."

"You should stop scaring these people. I don't think you're family would have liked to see you like this."

The man tearfully nodded and ran off.

"But...what if he's right?"whispered one of the woman. The hushed whispers now became a roar of despair. "Oh Maker, we're all going to die!" gasped another man. The movements of the people became more frantic. Their voices reeked of fear.

Aedan turned to the crowd. Enough was enough. "Quiet!" he roared. The crowd silenced. The dead air hung between him and the quivering villagers.

"Do not waste time with despair. The Blight is not yet here. You still have time to flee, and to live. Go north!"

They whispered no longer of death, but of the north. However, the villagers remained where they were, still uncertain. Aedan too was unsure of how fast the Blight was moving. But he had to try and get these people to move.

"I am a Grey Warden, and I swear on my life that I will stop this Blight. Do not fear."

One man stepped turned to the others. "The Warden's right! There's still time!" The others began to breathe easier, and their voices returned to normal. Aedan turned away: he had done all he could.

"Mmm...how forceful," came Morrigan's voice. Aedan saw Morrigan saunter up towards the group from the forest clearing.

"Decided to drop the dog disguise? Sure that's safe?"

"The templars are departing back into the Chantry to tend to the refugees for the night. It would be be rude of me to not take advantage of their absence. And besides, if they come back-"

Morrigan's hand glowed faintly.

"-I'll take care of them."

"No, you will not. We are already wanted for betraying the king, I really don't think crimes against the Chantry will endear us to the people of Fereldan," groaned Alistair.

Morrigan approached Leliana, and carefully sized the redhaired rogue up. "Hmm...I hope that your time in the Chantry has not left you weak and addled."

Leliana's face reddened with fury. Just as she was about to say something, Leliana held her tongue and smiled. The edges of her mouth twitched. She stretched her hand out. "I am Leliana, it's pleasure to meet you Morrigan."

Morrigan glanced at the outstretched hand and Leliana's smile. She scowled and turned away spitefully. Whilst Leliana silently fumed, Morrigan pointed towards the highway. "We should make some distance before nightfall so we can make camp safely. Have you decided where we are headed?"

"We're going to the Circle of Magi first. There's talk of demons overtaking the tower, and I'd rather our mages alive then dead." Aedan slung his knapsack over his back. He picked up a longer package wrapped in cloth as well. Over in the distance, he could make out the faint glow of torches by the highway entrance. "Let's get Sten and get out of here."

The cold wind rattled against the door of Sten's cage. His face numbed the pain. Days in a cage with little food, water, or clothing would do that. Perhaps this was his final fate- to be trapped in this cage until the blight consumed him. His back slumped against the cage. His breathing slowed and his eyes wavered. He had not slept for awhile- perhaps a little shut eye would-

"Hey!"

Sten's eyes shot open. Aedan's fingers drummed against the rusted cage.

"You can sleep later. We've got work to do." Aedan twisted the key in the lock. Of all the things he had encountered in this land, Sten found the click of the lock as the door opened to be the most exhilarating. He closed his eyes and breathed in the air. It smelled better. He took his first step out.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that you've got some gear stashed away," asked Aedan.

"It is."

Aedan tossed the long clothed object to Sten. The qunari ripped off the canvas to reveal a dulled steel greatsword. "I picked it up from the merchant. It's not much, but judging from the callouses on your hands you wield larger weapons."

"I do. Thank you." The qunari ran his fingers down the hilt. His hands ached for a familiar sword, but this would do for now. He closed his hands around the hilt and strapped the sword to his back.

Whilst the group approached the highway, Leliana said aside to Aedan, "You wanted to know why I vouched for you?"

Aedan nodded.

"You could have killed those men back in the bar. You could have just walked right past that man at the Chantry. You could have let Sten rot in his cage."

"So?"

"You have a good heart."

Aedan chuckled. "I have a pragmatic heart."

As they approached the stair to the highway, a mob of villagers came from the front. Gregory growled furiously at them, his hair on end. They held pitchforks and torches in their hand. Although Aedan didn't want to hurt them, they seemed hostile.

"Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?" asked Aedan.

"You're the Grey Warden, aren't you?" said one man. The torch in his hand shook as he stepped forward.

"What's it to you?"

"That big bounty on your head. It could feed a lot of starving people." He tried to make a threatening face, but Aedan could only stare at confusion at his bared teeth. Aedan's hand twitched near his sword as the crowd of people inched closer. Dirty refugees and thin looking villagers surrounded them. Alistair raised his shield up whilst Leliana discreetly drew a dagger.

"You really want to do this?"

"We have to or we'll die," came the man's desperate response.

Aedan stepped forward.

"I'm warning you! Just come peaceably!"

Aedan stepped with his left.

"Stay back!" The man drew a dagger. His legs trembled and sweat flowed down his bald head.

Aedan stepped with his right.

The man lunged forward with his dagger, roaring as he did so. Aedan whipped his shield from his back and smashed the man's face against it. The man crumpled to the ground. He moaned through broken teeth and a bloodied mouth.

"I have had enough of people trying to fucking kill me." Aedan threw his shield and sword to the ground. Enough was enough.

"Aedan, what the hell are you doing!" Alistair tried to pull Aedan backwards. Aedan brushed off his hand, and looked at him.

"I need to send a message. Before this gets out of hand."

"Speaking of which," he muttered as several men drew closer. Aedan clenched his teeth and rushed in. He parried the incoming punches of two men, and chopped one man's torch to the ground. Aedan's fists barraged the few brave enough to step forward. He could feel the taint within him. It pulsed against his veins. It burned against his heart. Each punch he delivered was followed by a sickening crunch of broken bones. He felt different then before, even after the Joining. Perhaps it had taken time for the taint to sink in. Perhaps it just needed enough anger.

He pummeled one villager into the ground with a series of rapid punches and hooks. The man crumpled to the ground a bloodied mess. Aedan, surrounded by broken bodies of villagers, turned to the rest.

"You afraid yet?" Aedan wiped the blood from his knuckles. The villagers didn't budge.

Aedan picked up his sword and shield off the ground. The villagers slowly approached the beaten whilst Aedan departed. People could get desperate when faced with starvation. Aedan was glad to have avoided their deaths, even if he did have to leave a few beaten. Leliana stood horrified as Aedan passed her by, her face gaping at Aedan's actions."You didn't need to beat them that badly!"

Aedan stretched his arms outwards towards the sky. "What can I say? I have a pragmatic heart."


	11. Unexpected

**Part 2: Fear**

_Chapter 11: Unexpected_

The group sat in silence around the bubbling soup. "Well, eat up guys!" Alistair smiled and offered each of them a bowl of what seemed to be grey thick sludge.

Aedan bravely took the first swig. His eyes widened and his throat gagged. He sputtered a bit as he swallowed.

'Wow," he coughed, "what, what is in that?" He gagged as he pointed at the soup. The taste was comparable to that of his joining. Aedan felt a pointy bone somewhere in there as well.

Morrigan sipped the soup, swallowed once, then poured her share back into the main bowl.

"That is disgusting. And I once swallowed actual swamp mud."

"Well, I didn't expect much praise from you Morrigan. How about our new comrades?" Alistair turned to them expectantly. He tried to smile as best he could to alleviate their worries. Aedan tried to keep down his soup the best he could whilst he took another swig.

Leliana and Sten looked at their soup, then back at Alistair. They watched Aedan struggle to down the rest. He needed to keep up his energy. Leliana dipped her finger in the stew and delicately placed it in her mouth. "Maker give me strength," she whispered. She drank the soup sip by sip, cringing with each swallow.

Sten downed the bowl in one sitting and his eyes widened. Alistair ran over to his last glimmer of hope.

"Do you like it?" asked Alistair excitedly. The qunari turned to him, his face stoic and at the same time filled with utter contempt and hatred. His eyes bored into Alistair and the templar shivered involuntarily.

"No."

The qunari got up and left into the forest. Leliana yawned and stretched her arms out, then departed silently to set up her tent. Alistair slumped next to where Aedan sat.

"Is it really that bad?" The templar frowned and took a bowl into his hand.

"Don't worry buddy. We've all got our skillsets. I've got my sword, you've got your humor."

Alistair's frown faded away. "Well, perhaps I can get the darkspawn to laugh to death. That'd be something to see, laughing darkspawn." The templar kicked over an empty bowl as he got up. He sheepishly chuckled as it rolled into the fire. "You and Morrigan have guard duty then?" Aedan nodded and began to fish the bowl out with a twig.

"Good look with that," muttered Alistair. He made haste and abandoned his friend to Morrigan. Aedan glanced at her. She gave Alistair a sour look as he left. She probably heard what he had said. The fire crackled amidst the silence while the two sat next to each other. Both stared into the dancing fire before Morrigan asked, "I have a question."

"I'm all ears."

"Now that you have seen my abilities in action, what is your opinion? Am I to be burned at the stake like an abomination?"

Aedan pondered for second. "Maybe tied to a flagpole and tickled, that's about it," he teased without thinking. His eyes widened at what he had just said. Morrigan would kill him.

"Oh? That's good to hear." Morrigan laughed. Aedan was surprised, and a little bit relieved; Morrigan ordinarily had some sort of scowl on her face or insult slithering from her mouth. But laughter...at something one of them had said?

"Not many people are so...appreciative of my abilities," replied the witch.

"Kept us out of trouble today. Useful traditions should be preserved."

It was Morrigan's turn to be surprised. Such words from the mouth of an outsider. "You just keep on surprising me little man."

"Little? You've hurt my feelings now." Aedan held his hand over his heart and feigned pain. Morrigan smiled with intrigue. This man did not slink away from her insults, and he responded without missing a beat. Much better company then that infuriating templar.

"Well," smirked Morrigan, who briefly scanned Aedan, "perhaps not so little. Who was it that taught you to fight? I imagine that the Warden's, while they do not test for intelligence-"

She looked at Alistair who struggled with a loose string on his shirt. The templar tried to pull it off to no avail and managed to entangle himself further in its grasp.

"-at least test for adequacy in combat."

Aedan stoked the fire and gave a hearty chuckle."A Dalish warrior named Teheral. Crazy old elf."

"Seems a little unusual for a human to train under an elf, let alone a Dalish. How did one such as yourself manage to procure him to train you?"

"You know how it is, you just sorta stumble upon opportunities."

* * *

><p><em>"Hey shemlen, you're in my plants," came an old gravelly voice.<em>

_"I am not in your pants good sir." Aedan rolled over and groaned and swatted at the fly on his face. His head throbbed like crazy. What the hell had happened to him last night?_

_"I said plants." Aedan heard the clatter of a bottle on the floor and the opening of another. He keeled over as a boot hit him in the stomach. "Now get the hell up." The grizzled face of a old elf stared down at him. He scowled at Aedan and kicked him again. "I'm getting up, I'm getting up," muttered the hungover young man. "What the hell happened?"_

_"Hell if I should know. My hangover is killing me."_

_Aedan stared at the vodka in the elf's hands. "And you're still drinking?"_

_The man took another swig as he straightened out his potted plants. "Yup."_

_Aedan clumsily moved around to get a better look. His hands fumbled on the window blinds and he drew them back. He winced at the bright light and it stung against his eyes. Outside was the Alienage tree, it's green leaves flowing in the cool wind. It towered magnificently above the buildings,_

_"Am I in the Alienage? How the hell did I even get inside of here?" Aedan went on all fours to find his belongings. "And who the hell are you?"_

_"I'm Teharel," grunted the elf, "Why the hell is a shemlen in here?"_

_"Ah, you're awake." A young elven couple exited the upstairs. The elven woman smiled at Aedan's current unruly state. Her partner marched to Aedan and offered his hand out. "I'm Hijaya's fiance, Jarat, although you probably don't remember."_

_Aedan sluggishly shook his head before stumbling on his socks._

_"You saved my fiance and I last night."_

_For the life of him, Aedan couldn't remember anything after he had entered the Gnawed Noble. "I did?"_

_Jarat laughed heartily and led Aedan outside. "Perhaps some fresh water will help you. There is a well right outside. Hijaya is about to make breakfast, so be quick."_

_Aedan stumbled outside into the bright morning. The dirtied apartment complexes of the Alienage surrounded him on every side. It was a tightly built place, with very little space for each family. Aedan wondered how so many elves could live in one place. It was the early morning though, so streets were sparse and deserted._

_As Aedan began to draw water from the well, a little elf girl ran up to him with her mother. "Mommy, look it's the dancing man!"_

_Aedan took a sharp breath of dread in. The elf's mother snickered and held her hand to her mouth. Aedan leaned his head inside the well to try and avoid their gaze. She gave Aedan a devilish grin and walked up to him. "Our star performer is finally awake, hmm?"_

_He struggled to maintain an air of calm and sobriety."My good lady, if you would be so kind as to tell me what I did last night?"_

_Another group of young elven children ran up to him."The dancing man!" They tugged wildly on his pant legs. "Let's dance! Dance! Dance!"_

_"What have I done," he groaned. He ruffled his hair in frustration and rubbed his eyes._

_"Well, our Teharel, and his daughter, Hijaya brought you back into the Alienage, rambling on about you had saved his daughter from some noble brats."_

_Aedan faintly remembered that. He had been walking out of the Gnawed Noble Tavern, when he had encountered upon some nobles harassing the young elven couple. They varied between sexual harassment and racial slurs. Just as the drunken elderly elf was to cut in, Aedan dispatched the offenders swiftly. They had put up a decent fight, but Aedan was their better. Aedan had offered to escort the three elves through the rest of the city, as the streets were crowded during the Landsmeet's off hours._

_"Last night was one of our traditional elven festivals. Teharel, being our resident drunk, offered you some alcohol._

_"Dancing man had lots of no no juice!"_

_"Yes he did little thing, yes he did. It's not often we get to see a human make such a fool of himself.""_

_"So you joined in with our elven song and dance. You did very well for a drunkard."_

_Aedan rubbed his aching temples and walked back towards Jarat's apartment. The old elf, Teharel, leaned against the wooden walls watching Aedan. "You hear all that?" asked Aedan._

_"Shut up shemlen, my head hurts. I'm not too old that my hearing is already shot." Teharel held a begrudging hand out. "Thank you for helping us." Aedan gladly shook the elf's hand._

_"It's hard, having to watch my daughter and son in law be harassed everyday. I can't even beat the shit out of the humans because then that would cause a whole sea of trouble. It's nice to know that there are some humans that aren't complete asses."_

_The door creaked as Aedan opened it. Teharel stayed firmly against the wall. "You're not eating?" inquired Aedan. A grumble escaped the old elf's lips. He hacked and spat against the ground._

_"No, those two are too lovey dovey and shit. Just watch and try to keep down your breakfast while they make kissey faces." As Teharel walked off swinging his booze, he muttered, "I wish I still had income so I could get my own damn place."_

_Several minutes later, Aedan wished he had heeded Teharel's warning. Hijaya and Jarat held spoons of rice soup to each other's mouth, making the most vomit inducing kissy faces he had ever seen. Even his parents never measured up to this level of sheer...whatever it was._

_"No, you take a bite first!"_

_"No, you!"_

_Hijiya giggled as Jarat kissed her on the cheek suddenly. "Behave in front of our guest!"_

_"How can I with such a tasty meal in front of me," whispered Jarat in her ear. Hijiya moaned softly as Jarat reached under the table to places unknown. Aedan coughed as loudly as he could for the very sake of his sanity._

_"Ah." Jarat suddenly realized what had happened and he resumed eating his rice soup and his face reddened. Of all the awkward moments he had experienced, Aedan thought this topped it all._

_"I'm sorry, it's just without my father around, we get a little...frisky." Hijaya pecked her fiancee on the forehead and picked up his plate. "I don't have the heart to ask him to move out. I know he loves it so here."_

_"Clearly," muttered Aedan under his breath. He was not surprised Teharel had turned to drinking during the day. The light shone in through the window, the sun at starting to reach its peak. Midmorning. His father might be getting worried._

_"I don't suppose we could ask you a favor?" Hijiya and Jarat beamed at him as best they could. Hijiya pushed another plate of sausages towards Aedan._

_Aedan gave them a suscipious glance whilst he finished chewing his bread. "You want me to get your father out of your house."_

_"Well, we assume you're a noble, seeing as how you came out of the Gnawed Noble."_

_Meat mashed in between Aedan's teeth as he pondered his next answer. "Yes, I live in Highever, only a day or two from here."_

_"I don't suppose you have any paying work for my father? He just sits around and drinks all day, grumbling and complaining. I think it'd do him some good to get working again."_

_"-and out of the house."_

_"Mainly that, yes."_

_The elven couple looked at him with puppy dog eyes, anxiously waiting for his answer. Aedan's fingers drummed against the table as he thought. He didn't really want to hire an old, drunk elf. He wondered if they actually tolerated humans, or just smiled long enough for them to get what they wanted._

_But they were in love. He could see that. And he'd definitely be doing both parties a favor._

_Aedan sighed. "I'll see what I can do. What can your father do?"_

_"He's a gardener mostly, he used to maintain the Alienage tree before I took over."_

_"Huh." A tiny smile fell on Aedan's face. As luck would have it, they did actually need a gardener. Old Rosaline had been caught pilfering items from the treasury several weeks back, and they had been looking for a competent gardener ever since. If Aedan believed in fate, then this would be it._

_After the last remnants of breakfast had been devoured, Aedan wandered the Alienage looking for Teharel. There were the giggles of those who had seen him last night. Then there were the hostile stares he recieved from other elves. The way they looked at him with contempt as he walked on by. He didn't belong here. Aedan knew that. They knew that._

_Aedan finally found Teharel sitting underneath a lone tree, finishing up his bottle._

_"Hey, so I heard you wanted a job."_

_Teharel scowled at Aedan. "I'll have none of your pity."_

_"Do you really want to live in that house?"_

_Teheral rubbed his eyes and laughed. "You had breakfast with them, didn't you."_

_"I had damn breakfast with them. Are they-"_

_"All the time."_

_Aedan shook his head and gave low chuckle. The old man propped himself up and threw the bottle into a nearby bush. "Alright, what the hell is this job and will it get me out of that house?"_

_"Well, want to be our gardener in Highever? Free room and board."_

_The slap of the elf's hand against his knee shocked Aedan with it's power. "Hot damn! That sounds pretty good. Let's see this so called place of yours."_

_Aedan grinned. The elf was starting to grow on him. "Come on, my father's estate is in the main city."_

_As they neared the exit of the Alienage. "You know, you can fight sorta well for a shemlen," admitted the elf._

_"Sorta well? I'd think quite well old man."_

_The elf looked at the young man's confident demeanor, and scowled, thinking back to days when he was like that. "Alrighty, come at me." He placed his fists forward. "Just don't cry afterwards."_

* * *

><p><em>"Aedan, there you are! I was worried sick. Where were you last night? And what in Maker's blazes happened to your face!"<em>

_"Someone got a lucky shot in." Aedan limped into his house with Teharel behind him. The old elf smirked as Aedan winced to climb up the steps. "Don't worry about me Father. I crashed with a friend." He wiped his bloodied nose on his sleeve._

_"Who's the elf?" asked Bryce._

_"So Father, you said we needed a gardener a couple of weeks ago, right? Well, I found one. Fantastic gardner, does a lot of work in the Alienage."_

_"Hello shemlen." Teharel gingerly plucked at one of the houseplants lying around the estate. He made a sour face as he rubbed the leaf in between his fingers. "Someone doesn't water their plants." The elf proceeded to_

_Bryce groaned as the elf continue to inspect the estate's foliage. "Sometimes I am glad that Fergus is the one taking over."_

_"I love you too Father."_

* * *

><p>A hour later, Aedan and Morrigan still sat by the the fire. Their conversation had flowed on naturally. They sat next to each other and swapped stories. They talked about Morrigan's life in the wilds and her encounters with templars. Aedan answered Morrigan's questions about the outside world and explained the strange nuances that she had encountered.<p>

"You're very honest," said Aedan, after he had finished asking about life in the Wilds.

"So?" Morrigan raised her eyebrow. She wasn't sure whether or not this was a compliment or an insult.

"It's different in a good way. Different then the people I've been around, especially the politicians."

Life amongst politicians rarely felt so clear. What-ifs and ambiguous answers filled his castles halls. He had always known Uncle Howe lied and brown-nosed, but he would never have thought him to do what he did.

But Morrigan. If she didn't like you, she made it abundantly clear. If something displeased her, her sharp tongue would lash out at it. If she didn't want to talk about something, she outright stated it. Aedan found Morrigan's brutal honesty refreshing and unfamiliar.

"Interesting. You seem quite familiar with politicians and the like, such as this Loghain fellow you speak of. And who might you be, to be so knowledgeable of them? A concerned citizen? A noble?"

"What do you think?" Aedan leaned backwards onto a nearby log and crossed his arms. Morrigan paused for a moment and leaned in closer to Aedan. Her face was mere inches from his. His heart skipped a beat. Her eyes trailed up whilst she scanned him and briefly lingered at eye contact. She returned to her previous position and yawned.

"Your skin complexion suggests a healthy diet, and your teeth are quite clean. You show manners to most everyone you meet, and don't have an annoying accent."

She tilted her head and smiled. "A noble perhaps?"

Aedan gave her a little clap. "Not anymore, but congratulations, you're right."

"And do I get a reward?"

"What?"

"Tis only fair."

"Too easy a challenge."

"Very well. A harder challenge." Morrigan thought hard, then asked, "What is a noble doing in the Grey Wardens?"

"That's a hard one," grimaced Aedan, "You only get one guess though. Make it count."

"Hmmm...I shall have to investigate further." The fire had died down to the faintest flames. "Til tommorow then," yawned Morrigan.

"Aren't you supposed to keep guard duty with me?"

"I'm sure someone such as yourself is perfectly capable of keeping watch by themselves." Morrigan snapped her fingers. The fire roared to life with a blast of heat. The witch walked to her tent, far off and segmented from the others.

Aedan smiled and warmed his hands by the fire.


	12. Teachers

_Part 2: Fear_

**Chapter 12: Teachers**

"Alistair, I have favor to ask you."

"Yes, I know what you're going to say. How do I get my hair to look this great?" Alistair pondered for a moment. "Actually, how do I get my hair like this?" He ruffled his hair and brought one of his bangs down towards his face for closer examination.

"Focus Alistair. This is important," groaned Aedan. Sometime Alistair could get a little...distracted. He wasn't sure what Duncan saw in him. He was a good warrior, but certainly not the best, and certainly not the brightest. Then again, what the hell had Duncan seen in Aedan?

"Alright, what is it?"

"Can you teach me some of your templar techniques?"

Alistair took a sharp breath in. "I dunno- I sort of swore an oath of secrecy and all that."

"We are going to a tower filled with demons and most likely abominations. I need to be as prepared as possible."

The group was a mere two days away from the mage's tower. From the rumors they had heard, the situation was bad. Nobody had heard from the tower in days, not even from the templars.

Aedan was unsure whether the group was ready to face the whatever might be in the tower. Their teamwork was dysfunctional at it's best. Morrigan stuck to herself in combat, casting off all sorts of deadly spells which often time grazed the others. Leliana would sneak off and kill their opponents one by one, but Aedan could never keep track of where she was on the battlefield, making arranging the group a problem. Sten, despite his incredible skill with a sword, adopted a similar loner attitude as Morrigan, and simply mowed down any in his path. Alistair was the only one willing to work with him so Aedan took advantage of that. In the last battle with highwaymen, the two had stuck back to back and eliminated any chance of being stabbed in the back.

It was not that the group wasn't deadly. During their battle with the highwaymen, they had dispatched them within a few minutes. But Aedan remembered back to the tactics and strategies he had gleamed from the military campaigns of Loghain. Their party would have a difficult time against more foes and more powerful ones. Then again, Loghain's strategies had proven quite disastrous for them so far.

So if they would not work together as a team, then Aedan had to make sure that he could at least look out for himself.

Alistair tilted his head back and forth, still weighing the pros and cons in his head. He made a funny expression with his mouth as he chewed his tongue.

"Do you like being scorched by fireballs?" asked Aedan, "I do not like being scorched by fireballs."

Alistair had to agree: Aedan had a point there.

* * *

><p><em>"How the hell do you fight when you're drunk?"<em>

_Aedan and Teharel were, to put it lightly, sparring in one of the cellars underneath Castle Cousland. If sparring involved Teharel kicking Aedan on the floor repeatedly, or slamming his fist into his delicates._

_Teharel had transitioned nicely from the Alienage to Highever. Besides his grumpy complaints about the cold, he hadn't had any regrets yet about taking the job. Aedan had managed to convince him to spar with him on occasion. He had not directly asked the elf to teach him fighting, and wanted to incentive the elf. The incentive being a human punching bag._

_As Aedan took another blow to the chin, he started to seriously regret this incentive._

_"Because my mind is strong. I have experienced many toxins in my time and have learned to maintain composure whilst poisoned. Alcohol was the least of my worries."_

_Aedan stabbed forward with his practice sword and Teharel merely took a step to the side to avoid it. Aedan stumbled forward on his feet and rolled to the ground._

_"Did you know the southern ginger root that grows in Kirkwall can be used to create a powerful hallucinogen? My people once used it to strengthen our resolve before our hunts."_

_"Stop moving around so much," panted Aedan. He stopped to catch his breath against the wall and wheezed heavily. For an old man, Teharel moved remarkably quick. Was it because he was an elf? "Gimme a sec."_

_"No breaks here."_

_"I said gimme a sec," growled Aedan. Teheral sneered back at him._

_"I want to know something boy. Why do you fight?"_

_Silence. Aedan had no answer. Honestly, he didn't know. Was it to be a hero? To just be good at something?_

_"I think I know why," said Teharel, "You fight because you're afraid. You fight because you're afraid that you will have no meaning, no worth, be of no consequence to other people if you're not good at something."_

_"Shut up," muttered Aedan. He pushed off the wall, clenched his fist and swung it straight at Teharel's face. It collided with the elf's palm. The elf kicked Aedan in the side and threw him to the ground. He sneered at Aedan's attempt and kicked him again on the ground._

_"Brought up to be the best of the best, the son of the Teyrn of Highever, but always second best to the eldest. What purpose do you have? All you are is a backup, a worthless piece of trash brought up on plush beds and warm food. You've never experienced true hardship. You've never experienced true fear."_

_Aedan rocked backwards and kicked upwards. His feet crashed to the ground and Aedan charged at Teharel. Rock collided with Aedan's back as Teharell smashed him with his elbow._

_"That's what will always keep holding you back. Your family. They've raised you to be strong yes, but there's only so much they can teach you. But you'll stay here with your fancy linens and feasts because you've never known anything else. That's why you'll never beat me, even when I'm drunk."_

_Aedan wiped his bloody lip. "Shut the hell up old man."_

_"Good. You're angry."_

_Teharel burst forward, hitting Aedan square in the chest. A dribble of blood escaped from his mouth, but Aedan didn't miss a beat: he grabbed Teharel's arm and twisted in opposite directions while tripping the elf. Teharel winced. Aedan drove his fist right into the elf's chest, knocking the air right out of him._

_Teharel whipped around on the floor and whacked Aedan against the wall with a spinning kick right to the chin. Aedan slid down the brick wall and sat on the floor. His legs trembled as he struggled to get back up. His body hurt all over. But hot air seethed through his teeth as he gazed at Teharel._

_"Sit there."_

_"Fine." Aedan stopped his attempts to get up and let his body go limp. Teharel sat down beside the bloodied Aedan._

_"I meant what I said. But I'm also going to say this. Cherish your family. Cherish what you have. You've been given what most people want their kids to have. A good life. Fighting isn't everything. Worth isn't everything."_

_Teharel took a swig of his booze. "Look at me. I'm a worthless drunk gardener. And I could never be happier." Aedan looked at Teherel's face from the corner of his eye. He could swear that the elf was grinning to himself. Was the old elf happy like this? Just a simple old gardener whose own daughter wanted him out of the house?_

_"You're just happy because you got a new punching bag," coughed Aedan through blood._

_"Yes, it's not often I get to beat the shit out of humans. And paid for it." Teharel laughed and slapped Aedan on the back. The young man grumbled at the snickering elf._

_"So everyday from now on, for training, I need you to do something or else I'll kick the shit out of you."_

_"More push ups?"_

_"You need to meditate."_

_"Meditate?" Aedan cocked his head to one side. He didn't really see the point, but he would do as Teharel said. If he could fight as well as Teharel, who was old and drunk, then he'd gladly sit still for a few minutes._

_"You'll see."_

_As Teharel got up to continue gardening, Aedan chuckled, "So you're training me now?"_

_The elf grunted and hid a smile from Aedan._

_"Guess so."_

* * *

><p>"Have you faced a lot of mages?"<p>

"Just one." Aedan remembered the frozen spell of the one mage he had faced.

"Did you win?"

"No,' replied Aedan, his face downcast and bitter, "No. I did not." The shattered sword in his bag constantly reminded him of that. It had been awhile since he had held the shards in his hand. They remained in the tattered brown bag Duncan had given him, and he hadn't opened the bag up since...that night. His blood was still caked on there.

"Well, the important thing when facing mage or abominations down is obviously their magic. I never took my vow, so I don't have the advanced level templar techniques, but I've learned basic magic suppression, templar tactics, and their practices. The most important thing is disrupt the mage's flow of energy."

"And how do you do that?"

Alistair scratched his head. "I dunno, you're just supposed sense it or something. We did meditation training and daily prayer to strengthen our minds. It would allow us to better focus on the mage's spellcasting and learn to disrupt it. It was also to keep us strong against mental attacks."

"Right right, meditation, my teacher had me practice that."

"I personally hated it. I'm not really a sit still in one place and be quiet kind of guy. I'm just too loveable for that. But besides the meditation, it's more about reading the movements of the mages. The twitch of the hand, the directions of their arms. I mean, a lot of mages give away the location of where their shooting magic or if their about to cast a spell. Not that smart once you think about."

"What, so just avoid where they're pointing? That's not really new. I don't usually point my forehead against bows."

"No, no. It's the subtle movements. It's reading what the mage is going to do next. Of course, there's this whole thing on the flow of magic in the body, but even I'm not too sure how that works. Like I said, conscripted before my vows."

"So you don't know too much? I can't do the anti-magic...thingy." Aedan made a bizarre waving motion with his hands and tried his best to imagine what spellcasting looked like. He looked to Alistair for confirmation. The templar shook his head.

"I prefer to think I got the better end of the deal. You know, lyrium addiction and all that."

"Right, I heard about that. So you can't use any of the higher level techniques without lyrium?"

"That's the jist of it."

"It's a shame. Once you get addicted, you can't stop being a templar. No such thing as retirement."

"Well, neither do Grey Wardens."

"What?"

Alistair widened his eyes at what he had just said. "Nothing," he stammered. "Just a pity about those other templars. But they knew what they were getting into...mostly."

"Magic suppression seems out of the question for me then." Aedan sighed. "Thanks anyways Alistair."

As Aedan began to make his tent, Morrigan walked over and leaned against a tree. It was rare to see her come away from her tent. Whenever Aedan talked to her, it would be by the fire at Morrigan's tent. She set herself up secluded away from the others. However she welcomed, or whatever her form of welcome was, Aedan whenever he came to talk. Unlike the others, whom she either scorned or turned away, she made no objection to Aedan's presence.

"Why listen to that fool? Clearly, if you want to know how to stand against magic, then you need practice. With a mage. Not the ramblings of some nonsensical order."

"What do you suggest?"

Morrigan smiled and motioned over to a clearing in the forest. "Come. Let us see why my mother thought you worth saving."

Brown and red leafs crackled beneath Aedan's feet as they entered the clearing. It was of medium size, giving him enough room to duck and dodge. Would that be enough to escape any spells? Morrigan centered herself in the clearing, and assumed a ready stance with the tip of her staff pointed at him.

Aedan raised his shield and circled around Morrigan. He peered over the top his shield to see the witch smirk at him.

"Good. Always keep a defensive layer between you and the mage. However, this circling business will do you no good. I need not be facing you to cast a spell on you."

Morrigan twirled her staff and made one quick thrust in his direction. A column of fire erupted in his direction. Aedan was caught offguard, and raised his shield to protect himself from the fire.

"Relax. The fire's not too deadly. Just enough to singe you though," teased Morrigan. This time she struck her staff into the ground, and a array of rocks burst out underneath of Aedan and knocked him to his feet. "Although fire's not the only trick I have."

Morrigan laughed as Aedan weaved through her fire blasts and other spells. Aedan grunted and his face began to sweat beneath the heat. He lept suddenly to the side and Morrigan's fire seared the tip of his foot. A blast of icicles skimmed past his face, almost grazing him. He wiped the sweat from his brow and cleared his head. He took deep breaths as he began to run, circling around Morrigan. With each circle he began to close in a little without her noticing. He would not go in too deep, least she figure out his scheme, but just close enough so that he could lunge in.

"Are you having fun?" Aedan winced as he jumped upwards to avoid the rocks.

"It's not often I get to play." Morrigan smiled and rose another columns of rocks right in Aedan's path. He pushed off the rocks backwards and landed on all fours. He was about at the right distance. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on Morrigan. He remembered when he too was overconfident. During those moments, he'd get a kick in his stomach from Teheral.

Morrigan started thrusting her arms forth when she fired at Aedan. The flames grew hotter and larger. The witch laughed as Aedan darted back and forth. He examined her while she shot another. Her arms began moving to the right and her elbows drew backwards, like an archer pulling back a bow. Her eyes filled with thrill as she thrust her arms forward. The moment she started to move forward, Aedan made the tiniest side step and lunged behind Morrigan.

It was so quick Morrigan didn't realize at first that he was coming forward. Physical confrontation didn't work for her. She had always kept her opponents at a distance. Morrigan gasped as Aedan wrapped his right arm around her neck and his left arm pulled both of hers behind her in one gentle swipe. She had barely anytime to react.

"Captured," he whispered in her ear. Sunlight glinted off the knife in his right hand. From behind he could smell Morrigan's hair- sweet scented, but not like a flower. More like the warm glow of a fire. He held her with the least amount of force and his arm barely draped around her. Her wrist were small and lithe, and she didn't have much muscle on her. He didn't want to hurt by accident. She lingered there in silence, perhaps in shock.

"I have not been captured, thank you very much," growled Morrigan. She snapped her wrists away from Aedan's grasp and pushed off of him. "Do not touch me."

Aedan chuckled. "Someone's a little sore about losing." He held his hands up disarmingly. Morrigan glared at him with the anger of a thousand burning suns. He could see a vein bulge on her forehead, her cheeks flushed with indignation. Apparently she didn't lose often.

"I am not! I was not even trying. It does not count." The witch stormed off in a huff, but not before glaring at Aedan one last time. Aedan groaned- he hadn't meant to offend Morrigan. And he thought he was at least on good terms with her. Now, it was uncertain.

Alistair popped out from behind a scorched tree. "So, you pissed off Morrigan," said Alistair. A proud smile formed on Alistair's delighted face. He bear hugged his brother in arms, squeezing the air right out of him.

"I'm so proud of you buddy."


	13. Danger

**Part 2: Fear**

_Chapter 13: Danger_

"Here we are...the Circle of Magi."

The tower stood alone in the foggy lake, only the tip clear amongst the vapors. A chill emanated through the air, and the wind ravaged the trees. Aedan could make out a faint light at the top of the tower that pulsed erratically. What was going on up there? He shivered as the wind brushed up behind him.

"Interesting. You put all of your most dangerous kind in one place. And it is a wonder that there is trouble there now?" The qunari stood stoic, but he would not admit that he ground his teeth ever so slightly in fear.

"You have a better solution Sten?"

"In my land, we collar the mages and sew their mouths shut. It is suitable to contain their danger."

Aedan stared at Sten in shock. The nonchalant way that the Qunari had talked chilled him to his bones. To be able to talk that way of toture.

"That is...unsettling. You would treat another of your kind like that?"

"They cannot control their magic, regardless of training. Eventually, they would all succumb to the lures of forbidden spells and destroy us all."

Sten glanced at Morrigan.

"It is a mystery why your kind has not yet realized this yet. You have apostates and blood mages running about everywhere."

"I can hear you, and I do not care." Morrigan ignored Sten and Aedan. Her mood had soured towards Aedan over the last two days. When he had sat next to her at the fire, she ignored his attempts at conversation. She would scowl whenever she saw him sparring with Alistair. No more did she offer to train with him after that incident in the woods. Aedan rubbed his face and groaned. Women.

* * *

><p><em>"Father...are you okay?"<em>

_Aedan peered over at his father, hunced over the old oak desk. The man had been muttering to himself as he read through papers. Piles and piles of parchment covered the desk and littered the floor by Bryce. An almost burnt out candle flickered weakly against the darkness of the room._

_Bryce turned to Aedan, his eyes drooping. "Aedan...pup...why aren't you asleep yet?"_

_"I could ask the same for you Father."_

_Bryce groaned and rubbed his temples. As he got older, it was harder and harder to read by candlelight. "Maric's unfinished business, and business that Cailan has yet to take up." He signed another paper and put into an ever growing pile._

_"Father, come on, go to sleep. You've been at this for weeks."_

_"The kingdom needs this to be done Aedan. Lots of nobles are getting restless."_

_Aedan leaned against the study wall. He wasn't interested in being a politician, certainly, but if there was something kingdom threatening, then it'd be good to know about. "Like what?"_

_"A lot of what was keeping many of the nobles was their respect for Maric and the part he played in liberating us from the the Orlesians. Now that his son is on the throne, some are pushing Cailan to make rash decisions. Cailan isn't quite so bold enough to say no. All it takes is a little wining and dining and a few compliments and the man is won over."_

_"What about Anora, shouldn't she be able to help?"_

_"She won't be able to do anything official until the marriage ceremony, which is still a few months from now."_

_"So what exactly is happening?"_

_"Land disputes. It's always about land disputes. Imagine what was happening with Bann Abelard but on a much larger scale. Then there are the prisoners of war, and the issues of taxes-" Bryce collapsed on the front of his desk, burying his head in his hands. "Thank the Maker I only have to do this for a few months."_

_"You need help?"_

_"No, no, I'm good," said Bryce before his head slammed on the desk and he winced. "Perhaps a little help would be good."_

_"Good." Aedan marched over and helped his father clear the area. "Now go get some shuteye. I'll divvy up the work here so Fergus and I can help you out."_

_"You sure you can handle this?"_

_"Of course I can. I'm a Cousland."_

_Bryce clenched his fist above his head and shook it drowsily. "That's my boy." He patted his son on his shoulder before noticing something on his face. "Pup, you've got a little bit of...eww."_

_Bryce Cousland was about to touch whatever was on Aedan's lip before he realized what it was._

_"Is that...vomit?" Bryce made a funny face and wrinkled the sides of his mouth._

_Aedan sickly chuckled. "Yeah, I think I'm sick or something. Whenever I eat anything I get queasy and naseous." As though right on time, his stomach churned._

_"Looks like I'm not the only one who should get to bed."_

_"Please Father, who do you think I-"_

_Aedan's bowels made a sickening growl as his face went pale. "I'm just going to take some of these to go," he groaned quickly, swiping some of the documents off of his father's desk. He sprinted down the ancient stone corridors before he came to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he returned, feeling as though he had been reborn. Teharel passed by, carrying several potted plants. Teharel snickered at the sight of Aedan's sweaty face and sick demeanor. Aedan whipped around and glared at him. The elf knew something. He always knew something._

_"Do you know what this is?"_

_"Yup." With no noise or impact Teharel dropped the plants on the ground and leaned up against the wall. Aedan waited for the elf to respond, but the elf simply stood there struggling not to laugh. He held his hands at his side whilst little giggles escaped from his wrinkled lips._

_"Do you mind telling me what it is?" Aedan grew impatient. There was only so much diarrhea one could deal with in a given day, and Aedan had long past that limit._

_"Oh that. I've been poisoning your food." Teharel picked his teeth nonchantly with a wooden splinter Aedan jaw's dropped and his hand twitched._

_"And why might I ask are you trying to poison me?" muttered Aedan as he tried his best not to sock the elf where he stood. He ground his teeth and took deep breathes. The only thing keeping him calm was the level of trust he had in Teharel. It was small, but still, he hoped the elf had his best interest at heart. The snickering did nothing to help that hope._

_"To strengthen your insides boy. I'll have you know that I've been using some of my extra hours to grow some mighty fine herbs and flowers that'll keep your innards working hard, so you better be thankful." Teharel pondered for a moment, then turned his pockets inside out. "Some extra copper wouldn't hurt either."_

_"Thank you so much for poisoning me," seethed Aedan whilst imagining his hands around the elf's throat. In all likelihood however, if Aedan even tried a stunt like that he'd have bloody nose in a few seconds._

_"You should be honored. The Dalish don't just poison anybody. Only those we really like or those we really hate."_

_"And where do I stand in terms of that?"_

_"Officially, since you're a shemlen, I hate you. But unofficially-"_

_Teharel took a deep breath, and grinned at the young man. In the darkness, with the candlelight hitting his face at the right angle, Aedan could see the remnants of faded Dalish tattoos on his face. He almost looked like the wild men from the books Aedan had read as a child._

_"I hate you," whispered the elf with all the malice and love he could muster._

_"I hate you too Teharel."_

_The old elf slithered off to places unknown. Aedan could barely ever keep track of the old man. Had he learnt all his techniques and training from the Dalish, stealth, brute force, and all? Why would he, such a great warrior, be living in the Alienage?_

_Aedan's innards beckoned again with a low rumble. He would have plenty of time to mull over those questions, along with his father's documents, whilst in the restroom._

* * *

><p>Robert, a new templar recruit, held his ear up against the barricaded main door of the Tower. Outside, he swore he could hear the whispers along with the howling of the wind. Then again, he could be imagining it- it had been weeks now since the demons had erupted. Robert yawned and covered his mouth, lest the Knight Commander hear. The man was irritable enough as it was without a demon invasion. Nobody had gotten any shut eye lately.<p>

The door shook and splinters flew. Robert screamed and fell to the floor, scrambling up against a nearby pillar. Robert shook in fright. More demons? He fingers wrapped around his sword and his shaking arm raised it as high as he could towards the door. If only he had taken his vows a few weeks afterwards, then he wouldn't be in this bloody mess.

The wood barricading the door shattered as the doors flew open. Standing in the doorway were two armor clad fellows. Dirt and muck covered them, and they had no shine nor majestic designs to their armor and arms. Mercenaries perhaps, come for easy pickings? The one in front wore a haphazard array of armor- standard issue army chest and shoulders, with the leggings of a mercenary. He removed his dented helm to reveal a mist-slicked head of unkept black hair that covered his eyes. He rubbed his evergrowing stubble in concern as he looked around and spotted Robert. The unhelmed man approached Robert, who backed up even further against the pillar. The man held out his hand.

"Come on soldier. Get up. If you're afraid of little old me, how the hell am I going to deal with these demons."

Robert hesistated, before he took the man's hand. He hoisted Robert up and gave him a hearty handshake.

"I'm Aedan, of the Grey Wardens, and I need to see your commader." Robert, still somewhat shaken, gave a reluctant nod and led Aedan and his group into the main room where the other templars resided. There the most heavily armored templar turned to them. "I am Knight-Commander Gregoir, and I demand to know just how the bloody hell are you? And why did Carol let you across?"

"We had some goods to offer him."

Sten grumbled and crushed a paper bag filled with crumbs between his massive hands. The other templars whispered and looked at him. Sten turned to them. "Is there something you wish to say?"

One of the recruits stammered, unable to find an answer.

"I thought so."

Aedan tried to focus on the problem at hand. "I'm a Grey Warden, and I seek assistance against the Blight." Aedan unfurled the ancient parchment. The Knight-Commander snatched it from him and scanned the document. "The Circle of Magi is honor bound to provide us with aid."

Gregoir sighed."At the moment, we simply cannot help you. The tower is overrun by demons and abominations."

He motioned to all dead templars covered by blood splashed canvas. Tending to the wounded were the few alive, their armor dented and singed. One recruit lay motionless against the wall, his eyes empty and his breath slow. He had seen things.

"To think of all the innocent lives lost here...is too much. We have been pushed back all the way to the very lobby of the tower. There is no hope that any mages have survived. As such, we have called for the Right of Annulment."

Leliana widened her eyes. "You cannot mean to kill all of them?" The sister shook her head, "that cannot be. The mages are stronger than that. Have faith that the Maker looks out for His children."

"There is no one left to kill, only demons remain there."

Alistair stepped forward and, for the first time since Aedan met him, saw anger on his face."You can't be serious, you can't just abandon the mages! You're a templar!"

"There are no more mages! Do you not understand! They're all dead. Our duty is to keep Fereldan safe from their magic, not symphatize with them."

Aedan turned to the Knight Commander. "You can't just-"

"What choice do I have?" screamed Gregoir, his calm mask thrown away. He grabbed Aedan by the front of his armor and shook him. Spit flew against Aedan's face. "My men are tired and wounded, and we cannot throw any more lives at these demons! No more!" Gregoir panted from his outburst and his eyes were filled with anguish. Aedan grimaced at the commander's demeanor. Is this what Loghain had felt like, that night at Ostagar? The burden of leadership seemed to bring nothing but pain and sleepless nights. Aedan hoped that it would not come to that for himself.

The templars couldn't help them. But a majority of Aedan's potential troops, templar or mage, was up in that tower. He couldn't give up. "We'll go in," he stated. Aedan clenched his fist and stared at the Knight Commander.

"What? You cannot be serious!"

"I am. I need this army, one way or another, and I was hoping to have a little firepower to go with it."

"There are abominations and demons in there! This is not some ragtag group of bandits or a scuffle with darkspawn. You cannot face them by yourselves."

"I can take whatever they throw at me. No matter what." Aedan drew his sword and put on his helm. He motioned for the templars by main door to open it. The two templars hesitated and looked to Gregoir for permission. Gregoir gazed upon the young man, who walked over to the door in silence. His companions followed him without a word and geared up. It was an indescribable feeling that Gregoir felt, and the sight of Aedan, sword drawn and ready to fight, brought only one word to his mind. Hope.

"Open it," barked Aedan.

"I can't tell if you're the bravest man I've met or the most foolish."

Aedan smiled grimly. "Probably both." Gregoir nodded to the two guards. They opened the doors, letting in the putrid stench of rotted flesh and fresh blood. Aedan scrunched his nose at the sickening smell. He had never before smelt anything this bad. Even the darkspawn camps at Ostagar had not smelt this bad. Perhaps it was a good thing that wolves had come to clean up those bodies; here in the tower, bodies had been rotting for weeks.

"May the Maker have mercy on your souls," Gregoir whispered to himself, clutching a symbol of Andraste between his fingers.

The door slammed shut behind Aedan and the others.

"Sheesh, what a downer, am I right?" said Alistair, half joking, half riddled with fear at the blood on the walls. Leliana traced her hand against the torn tapestries and the stained walls. "These poor people. It is sometimes hard to forget that the Blight is not the only threat to Fereldan."

A child's scream pierced the air. Aedan rushed to the source, further down the hallway. Demons surged around a group of mages and children. Suddenly, a burst of light struck them from the side. An elderly mage howled at them and shot another beam. The demons fell to the ground writhing. She blasted again, and they lay still. The old woman whipped around, the tip of her staff pulsating with waves of energy. Her robes were serene and well patterned, but obviously ripped and clawed at by some manner of creature.

"Stay back, I'm warning you-"

Aedan recognized her. The woman from Ostagar who had closed his sword wounds. Apparently she too recognized him, for her expression softened. "It's you. The Grey Warden recruit. You're alive?"

"I'd ask the same of you. Seems like you managed to get out of Ostagar all right."

Aedan stepped forward, but the woman thurst her staff foward to keep him at a distance.

"Stay back. I don't know why you're here, but I can guess why. You've come to kill us, haven't you." The woman eyed Aedan with suscipion and worry. Could he blame her, after all she had been through? But he had had enough with suspicion for his usual manners to pull through.

"No. I'm here to save your sorry asses."

"What? I'd think the templars wouldn't let anyone in unless to cull the tower."

"He did send for the Right of Annulment."

The woman's face dropped, and she shook her head at the floor. "So...Gregoir truly does believe the tower is lost. Do you?"

Aedan wasn't sure to be honest. He had seen the blood shed in the quarters, and heard the screams from up above. He saw the demons at Wynne's feet. How could anyone survive a horde of those? Deep down though, there was tiny part of Aedan that wanted to believed that not all hope was lost, and that was enough for him to say: "No, I think we can still save them."

Morrigan turned to him, a look of disgust on her face. "You want us to assist these pathetic excuses for mages? They allow themselves to be corralled like mindless cattle. Now that their masters have sentenced them to death- I say let them have it."

Aedan rubbed his brow with his tired fingers. "Would you rather have an army of you or an army of Alistair, Morrigan?"

"That is irrelevant-"

"And hurtful," added the templar.

"-because they do not even begin to stand up to me." Morrigan stared at him with a defiant look, gazing into his eyes. He stared back and decided to hold firm.

"I'm not going to stand by and let anybody die on my watch again. I'm not abandoning the mages. Are we clear Morrigan?"

Morrigan scowled before turning away. "Have it your way." She disagreed with his sentiment, but respected when someone held their decisions. There was a pause in the air- the group did not know what to say to that quickly resolved conflict. The elderly mage moved first and stepped forward to Aedan.

"Allow me to come with you,"she said, "As a member of the Circle it's my duty to see its preservation. This barrier will not disappear unless I make it so."

Aedan nodded and was a little glad. She was perhaps the sanest person to ask to join them. He held out his hand.

"Aedan."

The woman reached out and shook. "Wynne. Allow me to prepare for a few minutes and say my goodbyes."

Whilst Wynne said goodbye to the children and her fellow mages, Aedan looked over at the corpse of the abomination on the other side. He had seen nothing like it. the had bubbles of flesh and unworldly claws that twisted through it's arm and hands. It's skin was as though it was bleached and broken by the darkness, leaving only the husk of what had once been a human or elf.

"Did you see those children there? Shivering and cold, and so afraid. I can't imagine the horrors they've been through."

Aedan grunted as he put his helm back on. Sweat and blood splattered the insides, and his own breath suffocated him. "You won't have to imagine Leliana. We're about to face them."

Leliana hesitated and bit her lip, then asked. "Are you afraid?" She tried to peer inside the slit of his visor to see the face of their inscrutable leader, the man who nonchalantly waltzed in to fight demons.

"No," lied Aedan.


	14. Death

**Part 2: Fear**

_Chapter 14: Death_

The foulest liquid bled from the heart of the abomination. Aedan heaved his sword out and crinkled his nose at the smell. Musky and dark, like some rotted corpse that had lingered far too long. It didn't bleed like any other creature he had seen- the blood oozed out, thick and dark like molasses.

"It's horrible, isn't it? Knowing that these abominations used to be people," croaked Wynne. She tried to stay strong, but in her eyes turned away from the faces of the abominations when they had battled them. The twisted visages they faced were all once people she knew. It was a different horror then the Darkspawn, one that struck a chord within Aedan.

"They were your family, weren't they?"

"All of them." Wynne gave a heavy sigh. It was almost too much for her to bear; her old frame trembled as she looked around at her once glorious home. Aedan clasped his hand on her shoulder. "We'll save them. I swear to you."

"Thank you," smiled Wynne, "Your hope warms these old bones."

Aeadn tiptoed through the corridor along the wall- every room they had encountered so far had some sort of demon in it, and it would be best not to let them see him. His back against the wall, Aedan's eyes peered at the ripped tapestries and disheveled rooms of the tower. Parts of it reminded of his home in castle Cousland- the bookshelves with upside down books and hastily stuffed spaces, the wooden tables with bowls and spoons left unfinished. Curiously enough, there were few mage corpses. Most had been turned into abominations, but that certainly didn't account for all the mages. If they had all been turned, then the templars would have been overrun by the time they got there. Were there still mages putting up a fight somewhere in tower?

He rounded the corner, holding out his hand to signal his companions to wait. The air felt warmer in the next room, like a stifling steam. Something hid there. He held his shield out in front of him as he lunged into the room. Two rage demons rose from the walls and spat molten fire at him. It sizzled against the cold steel of Aedan's shield. Their molten assault could not stop him: Aedan trudged forward, taking the brunt of the attack. A flurry of ice hit the demons from the side, courtesy of Wynne. Aedan watched as their bodies turned snow white and their very skin crystallized. The demons relented and disintegrated to the floor.

The side doors burst open and a horde of abominations attempted to flank Aedan. Alistair cut off their approach and met them with a flurry of sword strikes. The abominations circled him, growling and hissing.

"A little help here?" Alistair grunted as he drove his sword into an abomination. Aedan barreled into the two behind him, knocking them to the ground in front of Sten.

"Try not to miss Sten," smirked Aedan. He swore he saw Sten smile as the giant drove his sword into the abominations head. The skull exploded in a bloody mess of guts and bone. Morrigan blazed the other one, which lay writhing on the ground as it burned to death. Despite the ferocity of their attacks, the abominations lacked intelligence. They were simply driven by rage.

The question lingered in Aedan's mind- what the hell had happened here?

* * *

><p><em>For a second, Eleanor thought that Aedan was his father. The young man was hunched over the desk, muttering about lumber contracts. His frumpled hair covered his eyes and face, masking his concentrated expression.<em>

_Eleanor kissed her son on the forehead. "I thought someone didn't want to be a politician?"_

_"I don't. I'm just helping Father out until the kingdom stops rolling around like an overturned nug."_

_"Despite what you say, you're awfully good at it. For once your Father got some shut-eye last night, and we even recieved a little care package from that Bann you helped last week." Eleanor hoisted a package of meats and cheeses onto the table. Gregory wagged his tail and barked with drool dripping from his mouth._

_"He just wants more money. I'll not let him make me fat and complacent."_

_"What for?"_

_"He wants more guards for his fort. He keeps complaining about ghosts and demons on his borders. I'm going to be taking a look in a couple of weeks, but I think he's lying so he can get a chunk of the royal treasury to indulge in."_

_"And what makes you think he's lying?"_

_"The fact that he barely pays his guards anything for one, and just spends all that money on himself...or gift baskets." He scowled at the food arrangement. "The bastard didn't have the common courtesy to put in some smoked venison. If you're going to bribe someone, figure out what they like for goodness sakes." Aedan grumbled as he thought of smoked venison, his stomach churning at the thought._

_"Maker, you're just mad because he didn't include your favorites in there- still such a child," laughed Eleanor, "Don't burn bridges over a little meat. Even if the man is lying, try and be courteous._

_Aedan was still a little steamed during his sparring session with Teharel. He blocked a fist from the elf with his fist and delivered a hook to the elf's stomach. The elf reeled back and chuckled._

_"Well, you've gotten plenty good at hand to hand, I'll give you that. Care to try some weapons?"_

_When his parent had first found out Teharel had been teaching him to fight, they had been somewhat apprehensive, especially when they found Aedan bloody all over the face. After a few sessions however, once Teharel agreed to tone down the bodily harm (much to his displeasure), they could now train openly in the courtyard._

_Teharel tossed him a sword and shield. The sword Aedan nimbly caught but the shield he let fall to the ground._

_"Yeah...I don't do shields." The young man kicked the shield back. "Too much of a hassle."_

_"Too bad," said Teharel, "It'd suit you."_

_Aedan raised an eyebrow. This being one of the only positive things Teharel would ever say about him, and he would turn it down? Madness. "Why do you say that?"_

_"You tend to like to get in close and fight. You often times leave yourself vulnerable to attacks. You try to roll away and dodge, but your body structure and training make you more of an explosive strength type of warrior then a quick dodgy type. Granted, you're still quicker than the average person, but it's certainly not your best trait. So the best way for you to defend yourself is with a shield."_

_Teharel kicked the shield back, and this time Aedan caught it with his foot. "Today I'm going to start teaching you how to take a hit."_

_"You mean you weren't hitting me beforehand?" chuckled Aedan._

_"Oh, is the little shemlen going to cry because I punched him a few times?"_

_"Honestly, the diarrhea your herbs gave me was much worse then your little punches. Who knew that your fighting had gotten so bad that now your gardening is more deadly?"_

_"Hohoho," grinned Teharel, "the shemlen bites! I'm going to have to repay you for that one. Now, come and let's beat the shit out of you."_

_"Do you hear the things you say?"_

_Teharel laughed. "Unfortunately, I won't be the one hitting you today. I'm getting a bit old you see-"_

_"I can certainly see that."_

_The elf glared at Aedan. "So my bones are a little weaker than before. Luckily, my time among my Dalish brethren has not left me with a lack of ideas for makeshift traps and materials." circum_

_"So you are Dalish? I've kind of seen your tattoos, but they've faded a bit."_

_"I was a born a Dalish, yes. But circumstances forced me to move to the Alienage." He paused, his eyes gazing off softly into the distance. The elf seemed older at that moment, his limbs weak against the blow of the wind. His face wrinkled into a indecipherable expression. Aedan couldn't tell if it was regret or fondness._

_"Sorry. don't mean to pry into old business. Done is done." Whatever it was, Teharel no longer resided with the Dalish, and didn't need to_

_"Ah, it's alright." Teharel waved it off and leaned against the tree. "I've moved on from it anyway."_

_"Our clans, you see, are always on the move. The shemlens have never given us land of our own, so we had to sustain ourselves on the forests and the wild. Although, I would say we lived better than you humans in your city. The cool breeze of the forest, the rustle of the wind, the sounds of the animals beckoning to you- sublime."_

_His eyes shone as he continued on about the the lifestyle of the Dalish. Aedan could see it in his eyes that he truly missed it there. Perhaps his love of gardening arose from that._

_"We stopped nearby Denerim for awhile, to restock and visit relatives in the Alienage. My sister fell in love with an elf from the city. Eventually, she got pregnant, and decided to leave the clan. We tried to convince her to stay, but she rather enjoyed city life, with its hustle and bustle. It was a few years afterwards that I heard about her. She had died."_

_"I'm sorry." Aedan wasn't sure what to say, so he said the only thing he felt he could._

_"You don't have to be. You didn't know her." Teharel sighed. If he was torn up over his sister's death, he didn't show it."_

_"What can I say? Both parents, killed in a race riot. My sister had thought to petition the city for more rights for the Alienage. The whole bunch of geniuses thought it would be a great idea to storm the Landsmeet hall. Didn't even stand a chance against the guards. I don't blame them. I'd be scared shitless if a whole bunch of humans came knocking at our doorstep yelling and screaming."_

_"But she left behind a little 2 year old. Sickly little thing. Couldn't even talk her outside for a walk before she got tired. I couldn't bring her back to the Dalish who were always on the move, no this girl needed to stay in the city, with someone who would take care of her."_

_Aedan remembered Teharel's smiling daughter who had cooked him breakfast and convinced him to give her father a job._

_"So your daughter I met at the Alienage is actually your niece?"_

_"Technically. For all intents and purposes, she's my daughter. I raised her, clothed her, kept her safe. I kept insisting her to call me uncle but she always called me "Papa"."_

_Teharel smiled warmly at the memory. "Now she doesn't have the same constitution problems, and she's even got a man to take care of now. The little brats grow up so fast. I still remember when she used to hang onto my pants leg everywhere." Teharel pushed himself off the tree and walked further into the forest. He sighed wistfully before turning back to Aedan and grinning that devilish grin of his. "Look at you. I bet you used to be small and innocent. And now I'm going to to hit you with a tree."_

_Aedan did a double take as Teharel disappeared into the forest. "I'm dead serious! Do you even listen to yourself and the shit you say?" he shouted through cupped hands. His mentor didn't reply, and Aedan followed after him, his head shaking._

_"Is that him," came a whisper in the trees after the two had left._

_"It is."_

_"What luck. At first I thought this plan of yours wouldn't succeed, with that mess at Bann Abelard's. Then Maric dies in a shipwreck within the week. The Maker smiles upon us. And then we find our little friend here by accident. You're absolutely sure?"_

_"Of course."_

_"It's a pity. He doesn't seem like such a bad fellow."_

_"He's not." A dark shadow breathed slowly and methodically. " Come, we have much to do Victor. We'll deal with him in time."_

_The leaves barely crackled as the shadowy man turned around towards the jutting mountains in the distance._

* * *

><p>After several floors of abominations and stairs, the group tired. Aedan slouched up against the wall next to the Great Hall and turned to Wynne.<p>

"Generally, I assume the Circle of Magi is not like this. What happened?"

"If only Uldred had not turned to blood magic, none of this wouldn't have happened."

"Uldred? I remember him...the bald mage at the war conference with Loghain."

"Yes, he tried to convince the Circle to back Loghain, but then I returned from Ostagar and told them all of Loghain betrayal. After that, they attempted to seize Uldred when he attempted to flee. He summoned a demon to defend himself and his fellow blood mages, but...it overwhelmed him."

Loghain again. Aedan's fist clenched at the thought of the man. "Why would he back Loghain? He saw what Loghain did, how he betrayed his own king? How could he think that Loghain could be trusted?"

"People are willing to believe anything to get what they want. Uldred believed that Loghain would grant the Circle more freedom from the Chantry."

His mind wandered to what sort of hardships would have led Uldred to commit such desperate acts. "It must be hard...being locked up here since childhood."

"It is," Wynne said. Aedan wasn't sure whether she was accepting or bitter. Perhaps both. "But sometimes circumstances necessitate such hardships- it protects the world from rogue magic, and protects us from a world that fears and hates us."

Aedan reached for the door knob, but the door creaked open eerily before he could touch it. Bodies surrounded a lone abomination in the middle of the room. Unlike the rest of the tower, these bodies were not bloodied and broken. They simply lay limp, their eyes blank and their face expressionless.

"Well well. Visitors? why not come and take a rest?" came the demon's whisper. It grated against Aedan's ear, yet oddly soothed him at the same time. Alistair eyed the demon suspiciously and circled around to the side, his shield out. The fact that the demon hadn't attacked them yet set Alistair on edge.

"Shut up," barked Aedan who held his sword out. A twisted smile fell across the abomination's face, and the world began to ever so blur around Aedan. The tapestries seemed to flow like rivers, twisting in his field of vision like swirled ribbons.

"Maker, I'm tired," yawned Leliana, who crumpled to the ground abruptly.

"Leliana," Aedan tried to yell, but his voice came out only as a soft whimper.

"Demon, I shall not fall victim to-". The floor shook as Sten collided with the tower floor. It woke Aedan up a little, enough for him to muster up some willpower. He struggled against his own body and took a step forward.

"Resistant are we? Stop, you are so tired. Just sleep."

Aedan looked at another limp body on the ground. A black haired mage lay there, his cheeks gaunt and his skin pale. He seemed dead, but at the same time, his lungs ever so softly breathed in air. Contrary to his limp body, the man's hand clenched around a bloodied scroll.

Alistair kneeled on the ground, chanting something to keep his concentration, but he too soon fell. Now only Morrigan, Wynne, and Aedan barely stood. Morrigan clawed up against a nearby pillar and spurted at the demon, "Do you think your magic can hold us demon?" Her hands glowed with her fury, and Aedan could feel the heat from where he stood.

The demon merely smiled and twiddled his fingers. Morrigan slumped up against the pillar and closed her eyes.

Wynne held her hand out at Aedan. Her staff dropped to the ground. "Stop...him..." She leaned forward and pushed Aedan ahead by several steps before she too succumbed.

Aedan took another step closer to the smiling abomination. Everything was a blur now, safe for the demon's smug face. He reached the demon and raised his sword. Aedan couldn't feel his arm anymore. Move, he willed his arm, move! But his arm trembled in the air and his sword felt as heavy as bricks. The demon took one step towards Aedan and stared into his eyes. "You're so tired aren't you? Just sleep." He flicked Aedan's sword and it clattered to the ground. The world spun around Aedan in a dizzying blur of blood red and purple. His knees buckled and his head struck the ground.

"Fuck," he muttered as everything went black. In that black oblivion, right before he fell asleep, he could hear the footsteps of the demon as it walked up to him. It could have simply shouted at the top of it's lungs, or stayed silent, but it chose to to kneel next to him and whisper in his ear words that sent a chill down his spine:

"Welcome to the nightmare."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_Just wanted to thank those who have reviewed so far, it really makes my day. Expect the next chapter in about a week!_


	15. Dreams

**Part 2: Fear**

_Chapter 15: Dreams_

Sunlight glinted against Aedan's face. His eyes cracked open as he groaned. How long had he been asleep? Aedan turned his head left and right. He was surrounded by the rustic stone walls of an ancient fortress. The Grey Warden banners hung proudly from each and every corner. The lively chatter of people filled the air. Scholars paced down the halls, scrolls stuck in the crook of their elbows. Warriors shared meals and laughs over long banquet tables.

The stone bench he lay on felt warm, and Aedan almost didn't want to get up. Had he been napping? He hadn't taken a nap in ages- not since-

Right before Aedan could finish that thought, a familiar voice sprung from behind him, and a hand clasped his shoulder.

"Aedan! There you are!"

Aedan spun around. There, with a jolly grin plastered across his bearded face, was Duncan. The man was no longer dressed in aged leather armor, but now in the silken robes of a scholar.

"Duncan? But aren't you dead?"

"Dead?" laughed Duncan, "What are you talking about child?"

His mind halted. What was he talking about? Why would Duncan be dead?

"Is my family here?"

"Of course! But come, let us feast!"

"Come on hero, let's feast?"

Their shouts faded as Aedan stated, "That's a lie."

He could still see it. The images that had haunted his dreams ever since that fiery night. Still in his mind. Oren's lifeless body, his warmth and smile stolen by the daggers of envious men. Oriana, body filled with wounds from protecting her son in vain. The pool of blood that formed beneath his father's trembling body. The tears in his mother's eyes as he left her.

His heart stared racing, and his breathing went ragged. Where the hell was he? He

looked at the face beside him. Ser Jory. Duncan drove his sword through him. He looked to his left. Ser Daveth. His eyes dead like fish as he lay on the floor, a dribble of blood running down his face.

Duncan. Duncan was dead. This was dream. Aedan shot up and held his sword out, waving at the three Wardens. "Stay back! This isn't real. You're all supposed to be dead! The Blight is still a threat."

"Aedan, calm yourself. There is no Blight to concern yourself with. The Darkspawn are gone. And besides," said Duncan with a smile, "how can I be dead? I'm standing right here."

"No," muttered Aedan, "I need to get out of here." He stood still, his heart racing, his sword outstretched toward Duncan's neck. Slowly, every so slowly, Duncan's smile faded into a scowl. He drew his daggers. Jory and Daveth grimaced. "Very well then. If you shall not accept peace, then we shall have to put you down."

His daggers sliced through the air towards Aedan's heart. The young man parried the blow with his sword, and slammed Duncan backwards with his shield. When Aedan swung his sword, it felt like he was trudging through water. Every movement he made felt sluggish. His eyelids drooped. He just wanted to sleep.

But the people who came towards him were hazy, not real. He knew that. He swung once, and their true forms began to reveal themselves. Wisps of darkness flowed from their demonic limbs. The face of Duncan contorted and twisted into an amalgamation of flesh and blood- a face that Aedan knew all too well as a demon.

Demon. He had been fighting demons. There had been a Sloth Demon.

The three lept onto him, clawing at his armor. Aedan let loose, cleaving his sword in wild arcs. His blood surged whilst his sword met flesh in a dance of carnage. He felt less drowsy- the adrenaline was kicking in. With each blow he landed, with each blow he took, he could feel his strength returning. Once their bodies lay on the ground, any doubts that this dream was real had disappeared.

Aedan knew what he had to do now. His comrades. He had to find them.

As soon as he thought that, a pedestal of twisted metal and wood spurted from the ground. Aedan approached it, hesitance in his step. Perhaps another trap, but he had no other choice. He brushed his fingertips across the surface, and the world alit.

* * *

><p>"<em>Now, we gathered a lot of our food from the forest, and hunted many a wild beast. One was not considered to be a man until you brought back the pelt of a beast."<em>

_Aedan stared at the contraption before him. A tree trunk, parallel to the ground, suspended by ropes that jutted into the trees above. He bit his tongue anxiously._

"_Now, I was quite ambitious back in the day. Dertaru, the biggest damn bear you'd ever meet. Claws like swords, and a blood rage like a dragon."_

_Teharel slapped the trunk, and it swayed back and forth. The trees up ahead groaned under it's weight. _

"_Other had tried taking it down with arrows and swords, and had come back wounded, or worse. The wretched thing was eating all the animals in the forest. The clan was starving. So I rigged up this baby, pulled her all the way back, and let nature do it's thing. Hit the bear clean in the jaw. the damn thing didn't die, but it gave me enough time to get in there and finish the job."_

"_So now you're going to hit me with this."_

"_Don't think of it as me hitting you. Think of it as nature hitting you."_

"_That makes me feel so much better Teharel."_

* * *

><p>The landscape twisted and contorted around him. Boats floated, golden dust permeated the air, and strange plants sprouted from the scaled ground. A man huddled beneath what seemed to be a tree. He stared despondently into the vast, unending distance.<p>

"Hello?" Aedan waved his hand in front of the man. It took him a few moments to get up and respond. He seemed weary and tired, like an old man.

"Hello," muttered the man, "so he got you too?"

"The demon, yes."

Aedan's mind clicked. He recognized the man."You...were on the floor in the room."

"You may call me Niall. So the demons haven't eaten my body yet. Tell me stranger, was I holding something in my hand?"

"A scroll."

"The Litany of Adrella," the man said, a glimmer in his eye, "The key to defeating Uldred."

"Then I'm going to need that when I get out of here." Aedan surveyed the vast distances of the Fade. "Do you know how to get out of here?" He turned back to Niall, who had a bitter look on his face.

"If I knew, do you think I'd be sitting here?"

Niall pointed behind Aedan. A portal- it swirled and pulsed with energy, like nothing Aedan had ever seen before.

"It's no good. It'll take you...places. You won't be able to get past. I've been trying for so long...how long has it been?"

"I'll find a way," stated Aedan, staring Niall right in the eyes. His piercing eyes filled with rage and determination scared Niall. He hadn't seen such emotion in the Fade, or outside of it, in awhile.

Niall smiled sadly. "Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. It's good to see that this place hasn't drained you of everything yet. Good luck."

* * *

><p>For the first time, Aedan thought he saw Alistair genuinely happy. In fact, it was the first time he had seen the man not in armor. Alistair, clothed in the simple drab of a commoner, sat round a table with several children, eating a warm home cooked meal.<p>

"Alistair. We need to go." Aedan didn't know what to say besides that. He didn't want to ruin the mans happiness, but they had a job to do.

"But my sister made pie!" pleaded Alistair, sounding almost like the children next to him, "Come on, join us and the family!" He patted the seat next to him, looking at Aedan with expectant eyes.

"Family?" The word took Aedan aback. It had a sour ring to it.

A slightly older woman in a stained apron handed out slices of pie to Alistair and her children. Her smile was as warm as the apple pie which Alistair dug into. Bits of crumbs and apple fell from his chin. The templar mumbled something to Aedan through a mouthful of pie. The scene reminded Aedan of his own dinners. He shook off the thought and grabbed Alistair by the arm. He didn't want to watch this anymore, and they had little time.

"Alistair. This is a dream. Remember- the tower, the demons?"

"What are you talking about? Come sit down!"

"Remember what we're doing. We need to stop this Blight. Avenge Duncan."

Alistair hesitated, before he cringed in pain. His head filled with the memories of templar blood and demonic hordes. "The Circle of Magi- Duncan- "

He fell to the floor, clutching his head, whilst the children and the aproned woman surrounded him, malicious looks on their face. "You shall not take him from us!"

Like a blur Alistair swung his sword, which had materialized to his side, at the woman. She hissed at him and in a explosion of dust and darkness her true visage revealed itself. Her demonic tendrils wrapped itself around his arm, her fangs glistened at the templar's anguished face. Alistair stared into the face of what had once been the image of his sister. He hesistated, before driving his sword into her belly.

It took every fiber of his being to fight against his natural instinct, to not attack the children. "Uncle Alistair, help us!" they screamed. Aedan kicked one of them into the table. "Show yourself demon. I'll have none of your tricks." The child twisted and swirled into another demon. Aedan struck the demon in the head with the sword, then hacked at it in the chest.

Alistair and Aedan had made short work of the demons, leaving the two panting for air. "I...Thank you."

And now Alistair's face had returned to it's usual smile. Not his true smile. Not like when he was smiling with the children. It strained over his face; Subtly forced, yet still believable. Aedan had to wonder: if he was not in the wardens, where would Alistair be. Had he too been robbed of his family?

He glanced over at the disintegrating demons, the dust of their bodies floating lazily in the hazy light of the Fade. It reminded Aedan Jory and Daveth's funeral pyre. It had been only a month since he had met them, and only a little less since they had died. His own dream had brought their faces back to his thoughts.

* * *

><p><em>"So you're going to stand here-"<em>

_Teharel moved Aedan with his hand to an x on the ground. The front end of the log loomed in front of him._

_"Now, hold your shield up."_

_Aedan grumbled and did as he was told. The metal shield felt foreign in his hands. Too heavy, too big. He felt half as fast, half as deadly. He didn't like it._

_"Here's the important thing- when it come's swinging at you, use your legs. Feel the earth pushing you. Push back, and it will respond. The earth which we all come from, and which we all return to. That's where the power comes from." His words had strange philosophical undertone that Aedan hadn't seen from him before._

_Sweat rolled down his face as Teharel walked away, towards the device. The log stared him in the face. Unwavering, unforgiving, fearless. Aedan felt silly for thinking this, but he had never faced anything like this. Here he was, afraid of a tree._

_Several seconds later, his face flat on the ground and his arm numb, he no longer felt silly for thinking that._

* * *

><p>Aedan thuded to the ground, and surprisingly it did not shake. Despite being a lumbering golem made of solid rock, his collision had been quiet. Getting the hang of these forms had been difficult. He had flailed around several times when he had first entered the burning man form, afraid that he would burn up. The experience felt surreal- his body was not his own, but at the same time it was.<p>

Craggy rock hands pushed up his colossal body. In a flash of light his true body returned. There, sitting by a fire was Sten. Aedan spotted him rather easily; the other qunari were simply ghostly wisps of true people. To his surprise, almost all of them were horned. He had thought that Qunari were simply bigger versions of humans. The company sat around the fire, swapping stories and cooking rations. Sten's face, for once, looked content. Not the usual stern expression he usually had on, but something softer and less tired.

"Sten, do you remember me?" asked Aedan.

"Yes Warden, I know you. You do not need to tell me this is a dream."

"Oh." Aedan peered at the other two qunari, who slung insults and curses his way. Their horns unsettled him- it reminded him of the darkspawn ogres. "Why haven't you tried to escape?"

"Tis a good dream. Of better times." Sten looked over his shoulder at the other two horned qunari. "You done talking to the runt yet, or am I going to have to eat your share of the jerky?" chuckled one of the others. Aedan wasn't aware Qunari could chuckle.

"We need to go Sten. I'm sorry."

"Why? Where has struggling and effort ever gotten me? To dishonor, slaughter, disgrace. Leave me."

In a fit of rage Aedan grabbed Sten by the collar and pulled him towards him. "Snap out of it, now! We have a job to do. So what if the world's stepped on you? So what if you have no honor, your company's dead, and you've been disgraced. We all have to put aside our doubts and fears for this mission, or else Ferelden, Orlais, even Par Vollen is doomed."

Aedan shoved. Sten fell to the ground. He looked up at Aedan, startled; the human stood taller then him at that moment. Aedan tossed Sten's greatsword to his side. "Get the hell up and pick up your sword."

The qunari growled, but begrudgingly picked up his sword. His comrades frowned and began to circle him. "Thank you...for that," said the Qunari. He gripped the hilt and ground his teeth. To imagine that a human would dare stand above him. He took one last look at his former comrades and swung his sword at them.

* * *

><p>Aedan stumbled out of the light onto the ground. He had taken a slice to the leg in Wynne's dream. He had began to think that the dreams were the true wishes of it's dreamer- keeping trapped in blissful thrall. Alistair and his family. Sten and his comrades. He had seen Leliana, draped in the clothes of the Maker, shining with happiness and serenity. He could not believe that it was the same person who could fight alongside him, covered in blood and gutting demons.<p>

Then he had seen Wynne's dream, and he knew it was not the wishes of the dreamer. The bodies of her apprentices layed before her, Wynne wept. She kneeled there, sobbing, shaking. Aedan had tried to convince her otherwise, that it was all just a dream. She just gave him the saddest look, despair piercing his heart. And when the mages had risen up, demonic shadows of what they once were, Wynne shook in terror as she watched Aedan effortlessly take them down.

"Wynne," he had said. She stared at him with those eyes. Those were not the eyes who had shone with hope, that day when she had healed his sword wounds.

"I...I will be fine."

Aedan remembered clearly, as he placed his hand on her shoulder, the look on her face. Partly shock, but also relief as well. She teared up a bit. Aedan stepped in and pulled her into a hug. They had stood there silent. A brief respite from the chaos.

"It'll be alright. It's okay," he whispered. Her frail body had stopped shaking. He didn't know how such a old woman, so frail and thin, could be so strong to hold out for as long as she did. Slowly, she had faded out, leaving empty space within Aedan's grasp.

And now, the one person who confused him more then anything. Perhaps her dream would shed some light on her. However, he only saw the black haired mage arguing with her mother.

"Morrigan."

She turned to him. "Ah. There you are- please, free me from this insufferable creature."

"You know this is a dream?"

"Yes, tis obvious. Come on, get rid of the old hag."

"How dare you talk to your Mother like this!" shouted the fake Flemeth, spit flying from her mouth.

"You are not my Mother, demon. Shoo, begone." Morrigan waved off the imitation of Flemeth like one would wave off a fly. It grew angry and grabbed her by the arm. "You will stay here, with me."

"Oh, I doubt that," muttered Aedan. A familiar light blinded Morrigan, and she saw in Aedan's place a golem. His rocky hands wrapped around the demon. It discarded the disguise, writhing around within his fist. It began to seep through his fingers, so Aedan brought his other hand into his fist, killing the creature with resounding slap. He willed himself back into his true form, standing in front of Morrigan.

"Interesting...you can shapeshift in the fade," muttered Morrigan, peering at him. She couldn't help but be intrigued. "Yet you are not a mage. Wonder of wonders." She realized that she was examining Aedan too closely. She turned away, and returned to her frosty demeanor. She brushed some of the demon's entrails off her shoulder."You couldn't have killed it in a more tasteful way?"

"Do I at least get thank you for saving you?" He began looking around for the spirit font. Where was it?

Morrigan scoffed. "Tis your job."

That was it. Aedan had been through countless puzzles and confusing buildings in the Fade. He had faced demons, abominations, burning men, and all sorts of monstrosities here. He had been running around saving everyone, and here Morrigan was unwilling to make his life easy in anyway- she wouldn't escape herself, she wouldn't cooperate, she just wouldn't say the things she felt. Aedan whipped around. "Morrigan, I don't know what the hell your problem, but just say it, damn it. One of the things I actually liked about you was your honesty, so no more of this roundabout bullshit."

Morrigan blinked in shock. Twas the first time anyone had gotten mad at her since her Mother back in the wilds. They had shown intolerance, or simply disdainful looks, but never outright anger. The shock subsided before she resumed her usual sour expression.

"You want my honest opinion? Fine," she growled, "I don't trust you. You collude with that templar, you side with the Circle and their mages, and you hold a dagger to my face. My mother sent me with you, yes, and for some reason believes that you are trustworthy enough, but I see no reason."

Was that why she was acting so cold? Aedan had just thought she was just a sore loser, but apparently it was something else. Trust. She had never had any family beyond Flemeth, and even then she did not speak of her mother with the greatest opinion.

"Morrigan, just because I'm helping the Circle and collaborate with Alistair doesn't make me a supporter of what they and the Chantry do. Things are rarely as simple as black and white."

Morrigan thought of her own intentions, her own plans. "I suppose that's true," she grumbled, but still maintained her coldness.

"And as for that incident back in the forest...I'm s-"

Before Aedan could finish his sentence, Morrigan began fading out like Alistair and the others.

"No,no what is this, I do not want to deal with-"

And Morrigan was gone. In her place was a final spirit font. Aedan brushed his hand over the surface, and the lines and cracks lit up like a star. In a brilliant flash of light, Aedan was gone.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes.<p>

Took a little longer then usual, with the Extended Cut being released and 4th of July. As always, reviews and constructice criticism welcome. See you next time!


	16. Nightmare

**Part 2: Fear**

_Chapter 16: Nightmare_

_It all burned. The houses crumbled. Smoke billowed from the ruins. If you listened close enough, you could hear the screams. Teharel could always hear them though._

"_Teharel," whispered the muscled man beside him, "we need to go." Teharel turned to the others- hooded, like him. To be found meant all their work would fail. "We've already planted the evidence."_

"_The job's not done yet." The elf unsheathed his sword and struggled to look for stragglers. He and his companions stood on the cliff, overlooking the destruction. In the distance, two men ran into the neighboring forest. Teharel watched them scurry- they looked so small, like ants. He could crush them beneath his foot so easily, even if they weren't ant-sized. Puny, weak shemlens. _

"_No survivors." _

_The elf lept off the cliff into the burning hell beneath him. But he never hit the bottom. The world blurred to pure flame. Suddenly, his body reverted. His wrinkles returned, as did the pain in his chest. The fire surged around him, searing his flesh. Teharel screamed to no avail. He fell, deeper and deeper into his hell._

"_96!"_

_The elf shot up, nearly spilling his drink. For once, he only held water in his hands. He gulped down the soothing liquid. Cool, refreshing, and pure. The sun battered down on the courtyard. Sweat stained Aedan's brown training shirt. Rarely did Highever boil like this- their position in the north meant snowy days and cold winds. Teharel had insisted that despite the heat, Aedan continue his daily training regime. The sun glinted off his sword and his eyes burned from the light and the sweat that dripped down._

"_97!"_

"_Bet you were just hoping I'd stay asleep, didn't you," chuckled Teharel._

"_98!" Aedan ignored the elf and trudged on. He raised his sword upwards again. The feet, Teharel had taught him, must be light when moving, yet rooted in the ground when absorbing blows. To be able to switch between the two meant his feet needed to be agile and strong. Aedan spun to his back, slicing his sword diagonally. His feet danced beneath him as he turned again. His sword swung upwards from his side, and his foot slammed into the ground as hard as he could._

"_Really don't want to practice with the tree again, do you?" Teharel noticed the bruises from the last time hadn't healed yet._

"_99!" _

"_Are you afraid of it?"_

"_100!"_

_The sword dropped to the ground, as well as Aedan. Only the thought Nan's cooking afterwards had gotten him through that last set. His stomach growled for it's reward._

"_Am I afraid of getting hit by what is essentially a battering ram used to break down doors? You tell me," Aedan shot back at the relaxing elf._

"_Look at you, little scaredy cat," teased the elf. Teharel without looking flicked a pebble at Aedan. He missed. "But that's good you're scared."_

"_Funny," panted Aedan,"I'd thought you'd be telling me to be fearless."_

"_Only fools are fearless."_

_Aedan looked at the elf. The old coot seemed like the type barrel headfirst into a battle and overwhelm his enemies. He didn't have anything to fear. "Why do you say that?"_

"_There's both rational and irrational fear. Irrational fear is that thing your mother has about that if I don't water her petunias each day they'll die." Teharel scoffed at the thought of it._

"_That's just you being lazy." _

_Teharel ignored Aedan's jesting, and continued on. "Rational fear is something like being afraid of leaping into a fire."_

"_You afraid of fire?"_

"_Fire hurts kiddo. Fire hurts like hell. I'm telling you this, one way I do not want to go is getting incinerated to death. I've had enough fire in my lifetime."_

_The elf closed his eyes and slunk against the tree trunk. Aedan thought he saw the man flinch._

"_What you're feeling is rational fear. I'd be asking your father to get your head checked out if you weren't afraid of the tree ramming you. By the Dread Wolf, it's a battering ram, aimed right at you. Fear means you can sense danger."_

"_So what should I do?"_

"_Don't be fearless. Accept the fear. It's there. Don't let it control you. Let it simply be a companion, at your side, always. Sometimes it's right, sometimes it's wrong. _

"_And how do you know how to listen to it? When it bribes you?" joked Aedan. As of late, bribes had been piling up at their doorstep. He had been neglecting some of the work he had taken on, and would soon have to deal with it. _

"_You'll know." The elf nodded knowingly, his eyes still closed. Aedan wondered what went on in that head of his, what adventures he relived in his memories. Teharel groaned and stretched his arms out before pushing himself up._

"_So tell me," asked Teharel, "will you be able to stop the ram as of now?"_

_Both knew the answer. Aedan had his pride; he didn't want to say it. Teharel sighed and proceeded towards the forest._

"_You know it's going to hurt. Shall we set up the ram regardless?"_

_Aedan picked up his shield._

* * *

><p>"How very very interesting," smirked the demon. The arcane horror robes fluttered ever so gently as it glided towards him. It's long slender arms draped down at it's side. The demon's rotted face stretched backwards, and yellow beast like teeth revealed itself. Aedan wasn't sure, but he thought the creature might be smiling.<p>

"Where are my friends?" he asked, sword pointed at the demon. The demon reached out and gently poked the edge of the sword. He did not bleed- his hands were skeletal, save for the decrepit skin patches stretched over it.

"Right here."

A wave of his hand, and Aedan's companions reappeared. "That was...interesting," Leliana muttered, brushing off her leather armor, "I have not experienced much magic in my time."

"I'd really rather not do that whole "children turning into demons" thing again, thank you very much," piped in Alistair.

"Why would you bring them back? You know we're just going to kill you."

"I suggest slowly. And painfully," growled Morrigan. Sten for once nodded in agreement and drew his sword.

The demon gave a hearty chuckle. Aedan crossed his arms and waited for the answer. A sigh escaped the demon's mouth. "Again with the killing. Aren't you tired? Look, your friends are here. Come now, let us return you to your dream of the Wardens- your friends can stay there too. Isn't that what you want? To defeat the Blight and live like a hero?"

Aedan's brow furrowed. Silence was his answer.

"Then again, if that was what you wanted, you wouldn't have broken free from your dream by yourself. I do so apologize for not delving deeper into your mind to find the right dream. Come, tell me, what is it you desire?"

"I want you to die. I want out of this dream."

"But reality can be so painful."

"Apparently so can your dreams. I noticed some of my companions in nightmares, and some lost souls along the way."

"Well, that's just to corral the troublemakers- break their will. But after they are complacent, I let them live the rest of their days in happiness. Is that such a bad thing, regardless of whether or not it's real?"

The young man paused. Aedan's sword slid back into it's sheath. The demon smiled. Aedan smiled back.

A flash of light staggered the demon. Aedan's rocky golem fist slammed into the demon's face. The demon flew back into the mountain wall- the impact sent rocks tumbling and flying. It's spiney fingers rubbed it's neck whilst it emerged from the rubble.

"Very well," it growled, "two can play at that game." Darkness enveloped the demon's body, twisting and augmenting his form. Then rank drool of an ogre dripped down onto Aedan's head. He looked up to see the smiling giant staring back. It's two hands shot from the skies above. Aedan met them with his own and the two struggled in a standstill. Aedan's feet scraped against the ground as he was pushed backwards more and more.

"Aedan!" shouted Wynne, "Get ready!". She struck the ground with her staff. A wave of icy lances jutted from the ground. The ogre stumbled and winced; blood dribbled down his pierced legs. Aedan kicked ogre's legs from under him, and forced him down with his hands. Ice ripped through the ogre's ches. An anguished howl shot through the air. Aedan raised both fists above his head, then slammed down down upon the creatures chest. Another icicle tore through his chest.

"This is my realm mortal- do you think you can best me at my own game?" coughed the demon. Aedan grasped the ogre's horns, and ripped the creature from the icicles. The ogre's face slammed against the mountain side, once, twice, three times. Aedan tossed him to the ground. Flesh shifted into flame. Molten hands dragged themselves up from the fiery corpse. Lava dripped from furious eyes.

Streams of lava seeped into Aedan's rock legs and began to dissolve them. He screamed in agony- it felt as though his very flesh had been boiled down. His hands smashed together. The force of the wind delayed the demon's approach. Aedan's knees gave way, and his golem form tumbled to the ground. In a flash of light, a burning skeleton rose from the lava.

"Fight fire with fire, eh?" muttered Aedan. With a roar the two fiery beings charged at one another.

Metal and lava clashed in a barrage of blows. Claws mauled Aedan's ribcage. Aedan almost passed out from the sheer heat and pain. He gritted his teeth, holding back the molten horror whilst Morrigan and Wynne assaulted it with a flurry of icicles. Sten, Alistair, and Leliana fended swarms of abominations that surrounded them from all sides.

"You could stay here...and be happy for the rest of your days. All that lies ahead for you is pain and sufferin- GH!"

Aedan had thrust his sword into the demon's face. His hands left the hilt, and plunged into the very insides of the rage demon. The insides pulsed and burned. He gripped onto what seemed to be the inner skeleton. Aedan roared as he began to pull the demon in two. It writhed and clawed at his face. Lava spewed all over Aedan. In one final pull, Aedan ripped the demon in two. The two halves spilled to the floor, bubbling. The bubbling intensified, until at least the demon's original form rose from the ground. No longer did it speak with it's calm demeanor. The horror flew at Aedan, slashing at him.

"Why do you continue to struggle- isn't that the point of life? To be happy?"

The demon smashed into Aedan's skeletal face, knocking his jaw clean off. Aedan fell to the ground, clutching his throbbing face. His flames wavered. Instinctively, Aedan released his shapeshift. He sputtered on the floor, a stream of blood oozing from his mouth. Everything slowed. He watched an abomination knock Alistair to the ground, and another two swarm Leliana whilst she tried to shoot them down. Sten slammed his sword into the ground, staggering the attackers. A swipe from behind sent him reeling to the ground. Morrigan and Wynne struggled to hold back the hordes with their magic.

"There there now, " hissed the demon, "it's over now." It wrapped it's bony fingers around his neck. Aedan gasped for air as the demon dragged his limp body upwards, bringing his face closer and closer to those dead eyes.

"Broken at last I see. How about we choose a more suitable dream for you?" The demon exhaled a rank breath, before cackling, "But considering what trouble you've given me, perhaps a nightmare would be more suitable."

Aedan's breath hastened to a frantic pace as the demon's fingers squeezed his skull. He couldn't even scream. It felt like a sword was slicing his brain. The demon lingered and smiled at the man's anguish. His rotted face came in closer, until his eyes stared into Aedans, boring into his soul.

His voice slithered in Aedan's ear, barely a whisper. "You never saw them die, did you? That divine moment when their eyes go cold."

Everything stopped. He couldn't feel the pain anymore. Those words scraped against his skull like thousand daggers.

He wouldn't, thought Aedan.

"I would," breathed the demon.

Then he saw their faces. The guards. The swords. Their pleas. Their tears. Their blood.

The Cousland blood within him erupted.

His hands clutched the wrist holding him. With a sickening crunch, Aedan crushed it beneath his grip. The demon's bones splintered and tore through his hands. He fell to the ground and wrapped his throbbing hand around his sword. The sword ran red as Aedan held it in a death grip.

Aedan razed the demon with a tempest of blows. Fury filled each strike as it hacked away at the demon's being. It sputtered, tried to talk, but Aedan struck it down each time. The abominations began to fade away as the demon weakened. Aedan let loose no roars and no speeches of defiance. His blood seared against his veins. His heart pounded in silent fury.

The mutilated demon backed away, limping across the floor. Aedan looked upon the demon as it cowered on the ground. He stomped on one of the legs. It crunched beneath his boot and the demon wailed. Aedan relished the moment and ground the leg even more. Reality and the dream world flickered before his eyes. He could see the Great Hall, the bodies on the floor. He stood, and the abominations true body lay before him. The demon lay pinned beneath his sole. It's face contorted as he watched Aedan point his sword towards the sky.

"I'll give you whatever fantasy you want. A harem, a kingdom, anything!" it gurgled.

The tip of his sword arced down from the sky. The air howled against the slicing sword. It scraped against the rocky ground as it cut through the demon's neck. Blood and sparks flew against Aedan's bitter face. The demon's face rolled, rolled, then stopped. It stared at Aedan with that final, pitiful, horrified expression. Something twisted in the gut of his stomach. He only caught his breath for a few moments before the ground shook beneath. The mountain began collapsing upon itself- the buildings and structures of the Fade began to disintegrate. They had killed the dream.

You...you did it," came Niall's exhilarated voice. He ran up to Aedan, looking around at the crumbling dream. "We're free." His expression changed from joy to one more solemn, a sad smile falling across his face. "I...you need to take the Litany."

"Come take it yourself Niall. We're free, remember?"

Niall looked down. His feet flickered and began to fade away. "I can't. It's been too long. My body is dead."

Aedan couldn't find the words to comfort Niall. Here Niall was, moments from dying, watching himself dissolve into oblivion. He had most likely never seen the blood of battle and never expected to die at the hands of demon. And yet he had still risked it all, just to save the Circle."Then thank you. For finding the Litany," said Aedan.

The mage sheepishly grinned and rubbed the back of his head. "It's better off this way anyways. I'm not a hero like you." He tried to laugh it off, but his eyes betrayed his unease.

Aedan stepped forward and the clasped the man's shoulder."In the end Niall, it's because you found the Litany that we'll be able to stop Uldred." He nodded and wiped the blood from face. "You did good."

The dream began to shatter, the sky fragmenting back into the Great Hall. Niall faded out, until all that was left was a brighter smile and his final words.

"Thank you, friend."

* * *

><p>And he could see the world again. Aedan looked down to see the gory mess at his feet. He brought his hands to his face- clean, save for the wounds he had received before the Fade.<p>

"So, I think we all have to agree that was an interesting experience," said Alistair.

"Never doing that again," muttered Aedan whilst he scraped the demon's entrails off his boot.

"You okay there, you seemed a little...angry at the end there-"

"I'm fine," lied Aedan, who gave up on his efforts to clean his boot. The demon blood had soaked through the metal- he hadn't known that was possible. He approached Niall's body. It lay there- limp and atrophied, a blank stare on his face. Aedan kneeled down and brushed Niall's eyelids down. He slid the scroll from the man's hand.

"The Litany of Adrella. We need only to recite it to interrupt any dark magic that Uldred may throw our way," explained Wynne. Aedan turned and held out the scroll.

"You should handle this Wynne. The words look complicated, and I wouldn't be too sure when he's casting the spells."

Wynne grasped the scroll and scanned over its contents. Leliana peered over her shoulder. The red haired woman's lips rapidly mouthed the words, with barely a whisper escaping her them.

"Are you sure? My voice may not carry-"

"I've memorized it," piped Leliana. Wynne looked at her incredulously. "Young lady, how did you-"

"I have always been good with songs, especially with the work of our Maker. You can count on me for this."

Wynne smiled. "Well, perhaps a bit of the Maker's blessings wouldn't hurt."

Alistair scratched his chin. "What else do we know about Uldred? We can't have anymore surprises like the Fade."

"When he summoned the demon, it bonded to him...turned him into an abomination. And to be able to summon so many, and such powerful ones at that, means that this demon is not to be underestimated. Do not let his human form fool you."

Aedan strapped shield to arm and grasped hand to hilt. Somehow, he knew he'd be needing them.

* * *

><p><em>Author's notes<em>

_Hey, thanks for all the reviews everyone! Hope you're all enjoying the story so far. About 3 more chapters until we're done with this "part", and then we'll see a shift in the focus of both the flashbacks and the Warden's journey, akin to what happened before. Will update soon._


	17. Fire

**_Part 2: Fear_**

_Chapter 17: Fire_

_The fire. Again Teharel dreamed of that fiery village. He looked around- he was in the town square. The bodies lay in a pile to be disposed of. His comrade gazed at it, his hand quivering._

"_The things we've done here Teharel, people need to know about it," he finally stated after an uncomfortably long silence._

_Teharel glared at him as he threw another body onto the pile. "The moment you tell people about what happened here, all the lives we took, all the lies we've told, they will all mean nothing."_

_The man whipped his face towards him. "So what, we sacrifice our consciences for this? How do we even know that this is for the greater good?" He looked at his quivering hands. Teharel knew what his fellow warrior saw on his hands. He saw it every night in his dreams._

"_You've seen this country- fresh from the grasp of Orlais. You know they need this."_

"_It doesn't make what we do here any better. We're just as bad as Orlais if we have to resort to measures like this." _

_Teharel ignored his pleas, and continued his work, but he watched his friend closely. The man leaned against well and continued to look at him with disgust. "Besides, you're just a knife-ears- what concern is it to you whether or not this country falls."_

"_I live here. I have a niece whom I need to feed and protect. And I will do so, no matter what the cost. That's what you do for family."_

_The man shook his head."Wonder what she'd do if she saw you now. That little niece of yours. Her uncle's blade dripping with the blood of-"_

_Teharel drew his sword. "Shut your mouth and get back with the others. I'll pretend I didn't hear what you said."_

_The crackling of the fire filled the silence and space between the two. The figure began to circle around Teharel, his hand on the hilt._

"_Do you really think you can do this Teharel?"_

"_My sword's drawn, yours is sheathed. Do you really think you could get away with trying to leak the information?"_

_The man chuckled, "So, I guess this is it then."_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Don't be. You're fighting for what you believe. So am I."_

"_Don't do this. You can't win. My sword is drawn."_

"_Oh Teharel, even though my sword is sheathed, you and I both know._

_His smile glinted. He leaned down into a ready position. His veins bulged from his forearms as he clenched his sword hilt._

"_That I'm faster."_

_The two men rushed forward. The hooded man whipped his sword from his side along with the scabbard. The motion propelled the scabbard straight at Teharel's face. The elf shifted to the side and sliced at the hooded man. His blade met empty air- from behind, he felt the stab of a sword in his back._

"_Oh Teharel. Was that all you had?"_

_Teharel coughed a bloody mess onto his leather armor. "Not quite," he growled. He grabbed a pile of burning coal and threw it into the man's face. His opponent staggered backwards, flailing at his face. Teharel lept at him and threw him onto his front. The man's face landed in the fire, and he let out an unearthly scream. He whipped the back of his fist around, knocking Teharel square in the jaw. Teharel's back hit the ground, and the world throbbed around him. His opponent stood over him, his shadow blotting out the fires around them. He could hear the flesh of the man's face sizzling._

"_You'll pay dearly for that Teharel." Just as the man brought his sword down, an arrow caught him in the arm. He clenched his hand in agony and dropped the sword. Several other figures approached from the darkness and tackled the burnt man to the ground._

"_Teharel...Teharel...stay with us!" The company shook him and stood gathered around him, desperately trying to bandage his sword wound. Teharel's eyes fluttered shut and the world went dark._

_His eyes fluttered open, and he was back in the servant's quarters. He rolled out of bed, looking outside of his window at the sun rise. _

"_Teharel, you awake yet? We're heading to Denerim soon, and you said you wanted to visit your daughter again." Aedan yawned and ruffled his own bed hair into something presentable. _

"_I'm coming, I'm coming."_

"_By the way, your one year anniversary is coming up, you want to do anything special?"_

"_What are we, some sort of married couple?"_

"_We do argue all the time."_

"_Shut up."_

"_I'll pick up a cake then," snickered Aedan, who slapped the elf on the back. The elf laughed half-heartedly and rubbed his aching back._

* * *

><p>A prayer murmured through the hallways. Sacs of flesh hung off the wall, and corruption seeped through the cracks in the rock. Aedan wasn't too sure what they were. He wasn't too sure he'd ever want to know. He had had enough of demons and magic for quite awhile.<p>

"Oh Andraste, guide me through this treacherous path, give me the strength-"

Aedan kicked open the door; a solitary templar kneeled in prayer, surrounded by a magical barrier. His haggard skin stretched over his face. He rocked back and forth as he held his hands to his forehead. His glanced once at the group, then began to chant louder. His words filled the room and his voice shook. He looked at them again confused.

"I...I will not be swayed by your illusions demon. Begone," the man seethed. His eyes darted from person to person. His teeth clicked. The sight of them sent sweat down his face.

Aedan stepped forward. "I'm not a demon."

"BEGONE!" roared the templar. Aedan paused. Was the templar's mind lost already? He waited for the templar to catch his breath; the man looked up once more and looked at them with anguish and confusion. "That usually works, why aren't you going away?" He rubbed his face, and shook his head strangely.

"Remember me, Cullen? It's me, Wynne." She knelt down at gazed at the ragged templar. She placed her hand up against the barrier. A tear welled up in her eye. "What have they done to you?"

"We're very real, Cullen." Aedan began banging against the magic bubble. "Any way for me to break this thing and get you out of here?"

"You...you're here to free me? To stop the mages? Perhaps the Maker has answered my prayers."

"Stop he mages?" Alistair inquired, "I thought Uldred was behind this."

"Yes, Uldred brought this all down upon, but the mages, the mages have been up there for too long. I've been in here...for too long. Too long."

"Morrigan, is there some way we can take this down?" asked Aedan, who drew his sword and struck against the bubble to no avail. The sword bounced off and rung in Aedan's hands.

"Not without killing the caster."

"You'll find Uldred and the rest of the mages upstairs," explained Cullen. His face grew dark. He paused, and almost didn't want to say the words. He steeled himself and uttered, "You'll need to kill them all."

Aedan did a double take, and sheathed his sword. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Uldred has done things to them. Twisted their minds. The demons, they whisper to the mages, tempting them to great evil. They may have been decent folk once, but no one could have withstood Uldred's machinations for so long." Cullen's eyes drifted off to somewhere else, reliving memories within his head. He shivered at the thought.

"Cullen, you cannot expect us to kill the mages based on speculation!" Wynne

"Don't you understand Wynne? If we let even one blood mage go, we could have another incident just like this tower on our hands! I don't like it anymore then you, but you have to do it. A few lives for the many."

Wynne looked at Aedan, watching his stern expression. Cullen too looked towards him. Her aged hands hovered near her staff. Alistair eyed her motion and stepped more to her back.

Aedan mulled over the decision in his mind. A single word escaped his lips.

"No."

"They're not like you and me-"

"They're innocent people damn it! Caught up in this mess of a Blight, just like all of us."

"Don't you think I know that? Do you think I relish killing the mages?" Cullen slammed his fist to the ground and the walls rattled. " I lived among these mages, they were my charges! But my duty as a templar is to protect the innocent from the dangers of magic."

"They are the innocent!" shouted Aedan, thrusting his finger at Cullen. It hovered in front of the templar's face, just grazing the surface of the bubble. "And I'm not just going to kill them based on fear!"

Aedan kneeled down and met Cullen's eyes. The templar shifted backwards- Aedan's eyes scared him. Something burned within them, something he had not seen in awhile.

"I will protect the innocent from slaughter, from the Blight or anything else," Aedan stated.

"Even if it means the blood mages will live?"

"Yes." He rose, and beckoned his companions to follow.

"You will damn us all," whispered Cullen as they left. Aedan pretended he didn't hear him. He didn't want to think about if Cullen was right.

The long winding stairway before the final room seemed to take forever. The marble stairway sucked the heat from the room. Aedan felt chilled. He looked down at the steps beneath him. Each one worn away by the countless mages who had travelled upstairs to their Harrowing. Wynne had told him about it- how they would be tested, how it meant life and death. It seemed to him a pitiful existence: to be bound by the Chantry, to be gazed upon with suspicion and fear, and to be torn from one's family.

The door stood before him. He pushed aside the doors. Chills ran down his spine. A mage screamed and twisted on the floor. Dark energies swirled about him. It pricked at his flesh and contorted it. Blood fell to the floor, then was reabsorbed back into the body. With a final scream and flash of magic, only a horrendous abomination was left in the mage's place.

Another mage turned to him. Bald and with a sinister smile across his face. Aedan recognized him as the mage at the war conference.

"Uldred."

"Ah, I remember you. From Ostagar. I'm surprised you humans managed to survived that."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to drop the staff, Uldred."

"No, no, I'm afraid I am no longer Uldred. I have taken his pathetic shell, yes, but I am so much more."

"Please, stop him," whimpered an old man, who lay limp and exhausted on the ground. His once elegant robes now lay caked with dirt and blood."He's...building an army."

"Now now Irving, no spoiling the fun." Uldred glared towards Aedan. "But you- you are too much a thorn in my side. It's a pity you were not born a mage; you would've made a useful puppet."

The air and blood of the room swirled around Uldred. His feet lifted off the ground, and he smiled ever so slightly towards the sky.

"You're one old man, there's six of us. Surrender!" Aedan drew his sword and pointed it towards the storm that brewed about Uldred. Uldred's head jerked towards him in a way no way should. The edges of his mouth smiled so widely that it tore at his cheeks. A burst of chilled wind and chaotic magic sent everyone tumbling backwards. Instead of a hunched back old man, a massive Pride demon stood in his place. It turned towards Aedan, the floor breaking beneath it's step.

"Shit." Aedan waved out in all directions, and slapped on his helm."Everybody, get clear of me, now!" His companions scattered, only to be met by a horde of abominations.

In that split second, Aedan charged. His boots slammed against the floor, the air rushing against his face. A shadow covered him in darkness. He lunged to the side as Uldred's fist slammed into the ground. He slashed at the demon's rough skin. Blood dripped from the fist, but less than Aedan had hoped for. Uldred turned and attempted to sweep Aedan to the side. Aedan forced himself to stay still, the fist moving towards him in slow motion. He stepped backwards and swung in the opposite direction of the incoming fist. The fist missed Aedan by a inch- but it instead slammed into his incoming sword, slicing itself.

"Sten, take the two on the left, I'll take the two on the right. We need to keep as much pressure off of Aedan and the mages," barked Alistair. He bashed a nearby abomination with his shield. Their blows and shrieks hit harder then before- the magic of Uldred flowed strong within them.

"Come on, that all you got!" taunted Aedan. He had to keep the attention on him and make sure his companions could keep the assault on. Leliana perched on a nearby balcony. Her arrows flew straight and true at the joints of Uldred, slowing down his movements.

The demon's laughter boomed through the chamber. He held his hands together and a swirling mass of ice began to form. Just as he was about to cast, a wave of fire melted the ice within his hands. Uldred turned towards Morrigan, whose hands blazed with heat. He snapped his claws, and ice rose to encase Morrigan's feet.

"Damnit," she cried, her hands glowing as she struggled to melt the ice at her feet. Water began to drip from the ice, but much too late- his fist already cast it's shadow over her. Uldred lept up and brought down the blow. Morrigan's eyes clenched shut. The rush of wind put out the fire in her hands and blew against her hair- but she did not feel the brunt of the blow. She opened her eyes to find Aedan's right up against her. His legs quaked beneath's Uldred's fist. His shield trembled beneath the sheer force and the ground began to break beneath him.

"Don't tell me that little flame was all you could do?" Aedan chuckled through blood. Sweat dripped down his helm and his armor shook and rattled. He almost couldn't take it, but he glanced over his shoulder and saw her. The flame that his words alit in her eyes- passion, fury, bemusement, he couldn't tell. But she gave him a smile before beginning to chant. The flames erupted from her hands, beginning to swirl around her entire being. Faster and brighter it blazed. Uldred lifted his fist. Aedan kneeled to the ground in relief, only to look up to see Uldred clench both firsts together.

The shadow of his arms loomed over him. Aedan's legs didn't tremble. The fists slammed down. The room shook. Wynne fell over from the force and smacked her forehead against the ground. She hazily looked up at the scene. Aedan stood strong, albeit worse for wear. Bits of his armor had fallen to the ground, and his chestplate barely hung on. His boots cracked beneath the pressure, but his shield held on, and so did Aedan. He roared and pushed against Uldred, slowly pushing him upwards. Morrigan looked up from her chanting. Her eyes glowed furious red. "Burn," she whispered before slamming her staff into the ground.

Waves of fire erupted from her staff. They arced across the room, surrounding Uldred. The air in the room boiled, and Aedan could feel the sweat slide down his armor. An inferno erupted beneath Uldred and engulfed him. The creature stumbled backwards, clawing at the fire. He snarled at Morrigan, and brought both hands backwards to squish Morrigan like a fly.

"Morrigan, move!"

Aedan turned to Morrigan, who was deep in chant, her eyes and hand still glowing like the sun. Couldn't she hear him? Aedan glanced desperately at Uldred. If he brought both hands from the side, he couldn't block it. He glanced down at Morrigan's feet; the inferno's residual heat had melted away her bonds.

Uldred's hands came rushing together. Aedan grabbed Morrigan in his arms and lept to the side. Uldred's palms sliced his back as Aedan tumbled to the ground. Pain seared through his back. Not only had Uldred drawn blood, but his flaming hands burned his flesh.

"Damn it," slurred Morrigan, "why the hell did you interrupt me." She struggled to push out of Aedan grasp and fell to the ground on her knees. She lifted herself up by her staff and glared at Aedan's wide and bleeding back.

"You did good Morrigan. We'll take it from here."

Aedan rushed at the flaming monster. The monster attempted to swipe at him again, but Leliana's arrows sunk into his eyes. The monster staggered, giving Aedan and the others their chance.

Morrigan scoffed beneath her breath. "Like hell I'll just lie down." She swung her staff at the abominations which headed towards Aedan and battered them with a storm of ice.

"Sten, Alistair, the legs!"Aedan barked as he slide beneath the monster's legs. Sten lumbered over and swung his greatsword, cleaving deep into the legs of Uldred. Alistair and Aedan ripped at the tendons of the other leg. Soon the demon fell to his knees and onto his hands. Purple scarlet blood dripped from his body and steamed as they touched the marble floor.

Aedan turned to the behemoth before him. The flames died down upon it's body, leaving only a burnt layer of sizzling skin. Uldred stared back at him. He mustered up everything he had within, and sprinted at the demon head on. His sword drove through the torso as Aedan rushed underneath the belly of the beast. His innards spilled outwards to the floor. Uldred screamed and collapsed to the ground as Alistair and Sten broke the bones of his arms.

Uldred lay on the ground now, still struggling to move despite all he had taken. Aedan limped over to Uldred's head. It was strange, seeing someone so big beneath him at his feet. He spat once on the demon, before bringing his sword down upon it's neck. The body gave one last twitch, then went limp. It began to disintegrate into dust. The puddles of blood and entrails too began to dissolve into the air, until only the bloodied burnt body of Uldred's original form remained.


	18. Protect

**Part 2: Fear**

_Chapter 18: Protect_

Gregoir paced anxiously about in the main hall. Tremors had shot throughout the tower. Roars had echoed through the halls.

The door shook.

Something was knocking against it. Gregoir nodded to his weary men. They scrambled off the ground. Their swords quavered before the door. The door shook again.

"Usually, when people knock, its common courtesy to ask who it is," coughed a ragged voice.

Gregoir's heart nearly lept out of his chest. It couldn't be. "Irving?" he whispered. His hand hesitated before the door handle. Maybe the demons were impersonating Irving. Perhaps he had finally gone insane from the stress. Gregoir almost didn't want to know what lay beyond the door. He gulped, and clasped the handle. He had to believe. He wanted to believe. He threw the door open.

Irving weakly grinned at him, supported by his fellow mages. Gregoir's open mouth slowly turned into a warm smile. He breathed wordlessly and took in the sight. All had not been lost. He squeezed Irving in a bear hug. The two men began to laugh until they were out of breath. The remaining templars removed their helms and put down their swords. They rose, although not ordered. Aedan limped into the room, supported by Alistair. "I do good work, don't I?" chuckled Aedan.

Gregoir released Irving and clasped Aedan's hand in his own. "You have done this Circle a great deal. I did not think it could be done, but here you are. Thank you."

Aedan motioned Alistair towards a nearby crate. The templar helped ease him down. Aedan grunted as the pressure was relieved from his sore legs. Wynne stepped over and began to examine Aedan's back. "Maker, do you ever not have wounds on you?"

Aedan coughed and chuckled simultaneously. Wynne's hands radiated gentle healing waves across his back. His skin tingled as his skin and muscle began to close. "First your arm, then this," muttered the older woman, "I'm beginning to think you have a knack for getting into life-threatening situations."

"You have no idea," sighed Aedan.

"Should have seen him after the ogre attack, took awhile to get him working again," said Alistair. The abominations had littered his body with bruises all over. He too took a seat next to Aedan, anxiously waiting for Wynne to get to him.

As she worked on Aedan's wounds, Wynne stated, "If it's quite alright with you, and with you as well Irving, I'd like to accompany this young man on his travels." Her hands dimmed and she drew them back from Aedan's back. She knelt to his swollen ankle. Alistair's foot tapped a little faster. "I'll get to you next, don't get your undergarments in a bunch. I'm tired too you know." Alistair blushed.

Irving scratched his neck and looked at Wynne."Are you sure Wynne? We could use your help in rebuilding the Circle. We will need strong mentors to guide our apprentices through these harrowing times."

"A part of me wants to stay, believe me Irving. But I think that our friend here needs me more than you do. He seems to get into trouble quite a lot." She turned to him. "What say you?"

Aedan rubbed his back. His fingers felt no open flesh nor blood."I'd be honored to have you along." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck whilst chuckling "We could really use someone to help pick us back up."

Gregoir approached the group, a package in hand. A pile of letters wrapped neatly in twine, sealed with a wax seal of the templar insignia.

"Wynne, if you are to be going with them, would you mind stopping by Denerim? We need someone to deliver the cancellation for the Right of Annulment, and the Denerim Chantry is familiar with you. I need to stay here and rebuild, so if you wouldn't mind-"

Wynne looked at Aedan. The young man scratched his chin and pondered for a moment. He looked back at Gregoir and nodded. "Denerim should be our next stop anyways. I need to gather some more information about the current political situation. Collect on a few favors." Aedan stood up on his feet. He wiggled his ankle about; it felt good as new.

"Knight-Commander, I have something to say," came a familiar voice, tinged with fear. Cullen stepped forth from the ranks, and bowed once before Gregoir.

"Speak your mind Cullen."

"The mages. They need to be locked up. Uldred may have gotten to them. We cannot let any blood mages live."

The room grew silent. The mages hesitated as they turned towards the three leaders- Gregoir, Irving, and Aedan. Irving shot up from his seat, despite his tired body. "You cannot just claim we are blood mages with no proof! Uldred did nothing to us." He turned to address Gregoir. "My friend, you cannot listen to this man's accusations. I assure you, we are sound of mind and spirit."

Gregoir folded his arms together, eyeing both Cullen and Irving. "I want to believe you Irving, I really do. But you yourself could not recognize the signs in Uldred."

Irving's breathing became shallower. "Gregoir, please." He looked at the Knight-Commander with imploring eyes.

"However Cullen, I cannot help but question your own judgement- you were held prisoner and subject to Uldred's machinations yourself. You may not be in the right state of mind to suggest such things."

"As such, we have only one witness whose account we can truly rely on."

Feet shuffled, and then the room fell silent. The mages and templars all faced towards Aedan. It had been awhile since he had spoken before a crowd. Aedan widened his stance and scanned the room. His eyes briefly met those in the crowd. He needed them all to hear this. His army could not be divided by doubt and fear. He turned back to Gregoir.

"I was in that room. Uldred's magic did not touch the mages; the Litany saw to that. There is no evidence that any of these mages practice blood magic, nor that Uldred has tampered with them in anyway."

"Gregoir. We cannot persecute these innocents based solely on suspicion. In times like these, we need to stand together, and stand up for our fellow people. That includes the mages."

Gregoir nodded. He wiped his forehead, leaving only a glimmer of sweat. "I shall take your word for it." He tried his best to hold back his grin.

Irving exhaled in relief and held his hand out to Aedan, "Thank you for believing in us. I will repay you the best way I can. I hereby pledge to uphold the ancient treaty that binds us to the Wardens." He release Aedan's hand and began to shuffle back towards the main halls.

The Knight-Commander glanced once at the mages before turning back to Aedan."On behalf of the Chantry and the Circle of Magi, I'd like to thank you-" The bearded templar scratched his chin. "I never did get your name, Warden."

Aedan opened his mouth. His name almost left his lips. Then he realized what Gregoir had just said. "What did you just call me?"

"Warden. You are a Grey Warden, so it seemed appropriate enough."

"Warden is fine. That's what I am." The edge of his mouth curved into the slightest smile.

He'd take whatever little rewards he could.

* * *

><p><em>"Are you absolutely sure that you don't want to go to Cailan's coronation reception?" asked Teharel. Aedan walked alongside him in the Alienage. Hijaya's apartment lay a block away. The two mens' stomachs growled. It had been awhile since Teharel had eaten his daughter's cooking. <em>

_"Ah, Father and Fergus can take care of it. Fergus is next in line anyways; he should be representing the household, not me. I told them I'd be here anyways." His stomach churned again. "Although it's too bad I'm missing out on those fancy little apptizers."_

_Night had begun to fall upon the Alienage, yet the moon shone brightly enough for Teharel to make out a figure atop the roofs._

_"Aedan."_

_"Yep?"_

_Teharel's eyes darted towards the roof. He flicked his head upwards to the right. Aedan looked towards the skies._

_"There's someone on the rooftops, watching us."_

_"Do you know who they are?"_

_"I can't tell."_

_One figure lept down and crashed into the wooden cart below. His bulky figure and demeanor seemed familiar to Aedan. A mane of unkempt dirty hair swallowed his head whole. He hadn't shaved for awhile, and certainly and kept himself clean. Dirty splotches of dirt and dust covered his chainmail, and it looked to be second hand. He scowled at the broken cart and kicked the little pieces to the side. The man picked at his teeth, glancing sideways at Aedan with an air of contempt. "Why the hell you hanging out with this stuck-up brat?"_

_That voice. The man from Bann Abelard's tournament, the would-be assassin of Cailan. Aedan shut his lips and began backing towards his weapon._

_"Teharel, meet the man who tried to kill King Cailan."_

_His head crooked to the side. The edges of his scowl poked out. "Were you at the tournament? I didn't see the Cousland coat of arms on any of my opponents. You either just watched from the sidelines, or weren't even good enough to face me. Either way, I don't care."_

_The man didn't recognize him. Good. Aedan pinned his sword hilt down with his foot. "Apparently you weren't even good enough to kill the king," he mocked. His foot played with the hilt, ready to flick it up into his hands._

_The man growled at Aedan and his nostrils flared. He ignored Aedan's jest and turned back towards Teharel. "Didn't come here looking for a fight, came here looking for information. Information that you have old man."_

_Teharel narrowed his eyes. His weight shifted ever so slightly to the balls of his feet. "I'm a gardener. The most I can tell you how to keep your flowers from dying."_

_"Denerim's a big place. I was hoping you might give me directions to somewhere. You seem like you know your way around the city."_

_"Why not ask my friend here? I've only lived in the Alienage."_

_"A little birdy told me about a very interesting warehouse. I'm told you and some others kept things there."_

_"I'm just a gardener. I think you have the wrong person."_

_"A gardener. How very very ironic," crackled a raspy voice. A hooded man exited Teharel's house. Within his grasp was the trembling body of Teharel's daughter. Her breath came in short, raspy breaths and her face was pale._

_"Don't worry Teharel. It's only a little bit of poison. I just had to incapacitate her. I didn't know if she inherited your skills. I didn't want to hurt her."_

_The glint of a knife flashed in the darkness, held up against Hijaya's throat. The stranger flashed a dangerous smile. "But I will if I have to."_

_The figure drew his hood back. Scars ran down the side of his right face, barely visible beneath his greying black hair. His face, while wrinkled, certainly fared better than Teharel's aging. Aedan put him at about the age of his own Father._

_"It took awhile to get the burns to heal Teharel. Those Tevinter mages really do know their craft...when they're not trying to kill you. Unfortunately, the scars never did completely heal."_

_The older man signaled his companion with a slight wave. "Stand down Victor. We have no quarrel with these two. I'd like to solve this peacefully, if possible. " Victor drew his sword. "Sorry boss, I'd like to be prepared. Last time I let my guard down, I ended up in a dungeon." He spat at the Alienage tree and looked contemptuously at Teharel._

_"You call this peaceful, holding a knife to my daughter's neck?"_

_"I guess we all have to do despicable things to set things in motion, don't we? You taught me that." The man and Teharel began to circle around one another._

_"You're supposed to be dead, Adair," said Teharel._

_"Let's not get all caught up in who killed who, and who's supposed to be dead. I'm here for one reason Teharel. After that, you'll never see me again." The knife's edge drew precariously close to Hijaya's neck. She shivered as the cold steel brushed her skin. The older man, Adair, let his smile fade. His eyes bored into Teharel and his voice dripped with a restrained fury. "Where's the warehouse?"_

_Hijaya whipped a cooking knife from her side, slipped from the Adair's grasp, and drove it towards his back. The man caught her wrist in his grasp, and twisted. She screamed as the resulting crack of her bones echoed through the night._

_"BASTARD!" Teharel moved faster then he Aedan had ever seen him. Veins bulged from his wirey forearms as his hands strangled his sword. His feet blurred against the ground. In a dizzying display of footwork, he sidestepped Adair and grasped Hijaya within his arms. In a fluid motion, he threw his daughter at Aedan. His arms stretched outwards. The elf pivoted and drove all his force into his sword._

_Adair's cloak flapped against the air. Two swords sliced upwards. Teharel stopped mid strike and leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding losing his arms._

_"Teharel!" Aedan leaned Hijaya against her apartment's door. He had to help. He rushed towards the dueling pair. Victor barreled into him. Aedan tumbled to the ground. "Let the old friends have their talk." He drew his mace and drove the head down. Aedan's heart barraged against his chest. The mace crashed into the ground. Aedan's head had twitched to the side, barely avoided it._

_Aedan's leg shot into the man's stomach. Right into the solarplex, right where Teharel had taught him. When he kicked, he felt the adrenaline surge through his leg. As he pushed off the ground, his fingers tingled. Something felt different._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the other man beat down Teharel. The elf's blood splattered against the dirty alienage lawn. The man delivered blow after blow with devastating speed and ferocity. Each time Teharel tried to counter, the man broke through the counter with sheer strength._

_Aedan rolled to the side and picked up a nearby shield. Victor swung his mace, which thudded against Aedan's shield. In that split second where the mace shook in Victor's hand, Aedan slammed his shield into his opponent's face. The man flew like a limp doll towards the side._

_"Teharel, I've been watching you for awhile. I'm surprised you haven't noticed," chuckled Adair, who kicked back Teharel. The elf brought his sword down, drawing blood on the other man's arm. The other man merely smiled and smashed Teharel in the face with his hilt. He wasn't fighting to kill. Not yet._

_"You've gotten rusty. It's all that drinking you've been doing," he said with his smug grin. Teharel's face, however, was contorted in pain and anger. His movements began to accelerate. He grazed the cheek of Adair's face with the tip of his sword. Bits of hair flew from his face. Adair grimaced, then launched his assault. He sliced both swords at Teharel's chest, slicing into his shirt._

_"You think you can just drink away those memories?"_

_A barrage of kicks landed in Teharel's stomach. The elf reeled backwards._

_"You think raising your little plants and your little daughter will redeem you?" Adair screamed, losing his calm voice. His swords danced and whirled, slicing at Teharel's skin and tendons. The elf bit his lip, trying to endure. His legs began to tremble, and his limbs went numb. His body shook and shuddered. He looked at the edge of Adair's swords; drops of venom tinged the very tip._

_"Men like us-" seethed Adair. A single tear ran down his cheek. "We don't get that right." The elf crumpled to the ground. He clutched his sides. He could feel the soggy blood through his shirt._

_Teharel whispered,"I know that."_

_Adair's heel swung down. The crunch echoed in Aedan's ears. His stomach turned at the sight of shattered bone protruding from Teharel's devastated right leg and the blood spurting forth from it._

_"Tell me where the warehouse is, or I do this to your daughter, her husband, and your little friend here. And maybe after that, I'll help you live."_

_Adair heard the shuffle of Aedan's feet against the dirt. He sighed and turned towards Aedan. The young man jumped backwards, startled. "Don't even try it," seethed Adair. His ragged breath was visible in the cold night air. Fighting Teharel had taken it's toll._

_"He's going to kill you," croaked Teharel,"The blade...is poisoned." He slammed his fist against the ground, his body shaking whilst he tried to get back up. He slipped in his own blood, and his face fell to the ground._

_"Run."_

_Aedan eyes met Teharel's. For the first time, he saw fear. He looked over at the man who stood over the elf. Unlike the elf, Adair was not lanky nor spry. Teharel's blood dripped down his chiseled arms and calloused hands. Teharel had always hidden his fighting ability, but this man wore it, lived it. The moon's light fell upon his massive back and the shadow fell upon Teharel's broken body. He stood over his prey like an animal. Aedan wiped his sweaty palm against his pants. No armor to protect him. No Loghain to bail him out. No Teharel._

_He couldn't do this._

_He glanced backwards, looking for an escape route. There, laying by the side of the path, was Hijaya. Her fiance held her in his arms, cradling her trembling body. Now Aedan's eyes met hers. The moonlight reflected off her tears. Though only for a moment, as their eyes connected, he could hear her voice in his ears. The voice of a daughter who loved her father, and the one word she screamed silently._

_Please._

_He turned back. His feet shook whilst he raised his shield upwards. Adair raised his eyebrow at the sight. Aedan's hands felt cold and numb as he clenched his sword handle. Slowly, as Aedan raised his sword, his feet stopped shaking._

_A fire alit in his eyes._


	19. Stoic

**Part 2: Fear**

_Chapter 19: Stoic_

The lights of the Circle of Magi held steady outside the confines of their camp. Irving had offered to let them stay there for the night, but Aedan had wanted to set off immediately. The sooner they got to Denerim, the better. No doubt the Chantry awaited the Circle's status. He and Wynne sat together on an old log, stoking the guard fire. The occasional snores of their companions (mostly Alistair) filled the night.

"Have you dealt with mages before? You don't seem as afraid of us as other people."

"Other people?"

"My birth family was dreadfully frightened of me. You know, when I was a young girl, I got so angry at one boy that my anger bubbled up and I set his hair on fire. I ended up being locked in the shed in the dark for days, until the Templars showed up."

"I'm sorry. It must have been hard...being taken from your family."

"It was...but then when I stepped into the Tower, surrounded by other mages and looking up that vast stairway, somewhere in my heart I knew I was home. One path closes, another opens."

Aedan shifted in place and his eyes hazed over. Wynne placed her hand gently on his.

"I get the feeling something happened to you. Before Ostagar." Wynne gave him a look that reminded him of his mother- she used to sit by his bedside when he had nightmares. The words almost left his mouth- their names, his past, the events of that night. It hovered on the tip of his tongue, but his heart wrenched and pulled the words back in. He couldn't say it: he felt that if he did, they'd finally be gone. Their memory was entrusted to him and him alone. He would not share it.

"I'll be fine Wynne. Time heals most wounds." Aedan gazed downwards away from the woman's eyes. She gave him a sad smile and patted his hand. "When you're ready then." The elderly mage stood up and departed to her bedroll, giving one last look at the solitary Aedan. She smiled as she saw a figure approach from the dark.

Morrigan plopped down next to him. Aedan did a little jump backwards. She hadn't sat down to talk with him in awhile. Was she mad about something? He glanced over at her, meeting her brief gaze. She brushed away a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"I believe you were saying something," she muttered. Her eyes darted away and she leaned to the side. Something was on her mind.

"What?"

"Back in the Fade- you were going to say I'm sor-" Morrigan cut off the last word, looking at Aedan expectantly. Her foot tapped against the ground whilst Aedan raised his eyebrow. This was the closest thing to Morrigan accepting his apology that Aedan was going to get. He grinned: he might as well have fun with it.

"Dunno, it's kinda blurry," he pondered. He kicked his feet up and let his view turn to the stars. He watched Morrigan from the corner of his eye; she pouted and leaned in. Her hands pushed against his shoulder playfully. "You are the only one who broke free in the Fade, and yet now you remember nothing. How curious."

He turned his gaze back on her. She had on a wicked smile, looking for him to lay down and beg for her forgiveness. Aedan tapped his fist against his open hand, as though he had suddenly remembered something trivial. "You know what, I think I remember. I was going to say I'm sorry-"

He let the words linger in the air between them. Her expression softened. He sighed in relief, then returned Morrigan's wicked smile. "But then I saw you fight Uldred. And I thought, is that really all she can do? I can totally beat that," he slithered.

Morrigan mouth dropped in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. The fire crackled as she exhaled sharply. She scooted in closer to Aedan on the tree trunk- only a few inches separated her and Aedan.

"I think I would have had a chance to shine better if someone hadn't decided to tackle me to the ground," she retorted with mock anger. "One might even suggest you did that on purpose, so you could hog the glory of the kill to yourself."

"Considering I saved your life, I should think you should be a little more grateful. In fact, maybe you should be thanking me." Aedan looked into her eyes, unwavering in his teasing words. He didn't mind staring into Morrigan's eyes- he could lose himself in there. So piercing. So beautiful. She looked down at his lips, and gently bit her own. Instinctively, Aedan looked at hers. In that brief moment, Morrigan struck: "Well-"

Morrigan's hands slid around Aedan's arm. Her soft lithe arms coiled about his, pulling her body towards him. Aedan choked; he could feel her warmth up against his arm. Her plump lips brushed against his ear.

"It wasn't completely unpleasant," she breathed. The last word rolled off her tongue, and he could feel the moist brushes of her lips as she spoke. His face grew hot and his cheeks reddened. Her fingers reached over and pressed against his forehead. They lingered for what seemed like an eternity.

"It seems I've managed to burn you, oh untouchable leader." The witch sprung up and looked down upon the flustered Warden. "Looks like I win our little duel." She held her fingers to her lips to hide her smile as she sauntered away.

A low grumble left Aedan. He rubbed his flushed face.

Damn that woman. She was a dangerous one.

* * *

><p><em>He charged.<em>

_The sword swung from the right. Aedan spun to the left, letting his shield deflect the blow, and driving force into his right hand. However, this left his back open to Adair. The man grumbled and motioned to kick Aedan in the back._

_That feeling again. Like he had had when fighting Victor. His blood rushed to his head. His heart pumped. The world slowed._

_He let his knees drop, without losing the momentum of his strike. He felt his hair blown back by the sheer force of Adair kick. It barely grazed his head. Aedan launched out of his kneeling position and rushed past Adair. The older man narrowed his eyes. A drop of blood dribbled down his cheek. His finger traced where Aedan's sword had cut him._

_"So, Teharel taught you? Interesting. It'll be fun fighting someone who isn't a short old alcoholic."_

_His sword slashed down. Aedan's body reacted on it's own and stepped sideways. He couldn't let himself think, not now. He could only react._

_As the blows rained down upon him, however, the thought shot through his mind._

_I could die._

_Really, the thought had never occurred to him before. He fought only in tournaments, against trainers. The only sort of real danger he had ever been in was at Bann Abelard's against Victor, and even then there had been a whole room of guards and Loghain._

_He could feel it. The adrenaline surging through his veins. As Adair's sword blows rained down upon him, he could feel it tingling. The fear of death. He moved quicker, struck harder, and blocked more tenaciously. The sweat dripped down his brow and his breathing became more desperate. He didn't want to die._

_But he couldn't leave Teharel behind._

_The fear guided his body as he dodged, as his shield whipped round to block the blows._

_Courage guided his body as he dared to attack Adair. He stabbed forward, almost hitting the man._

_"Interesting...you've got talent boy. Victor underestimated you."_

_The man brought his sword down upon Aedan shield. He barely managed to block it. The shield shook in his hands and bones. His hands went numb._

_"Killing you would be such a waste."_

_He whipped both swords from the side. Adair smiled. He had the boy: he could only dodge backward, or take at the least one blow. Adair's foot tensed against the ground in preparation for Aedan's retreat._

_Aedan saw the man's foot prepare, and in an instant he smashed the shield and himself forward. His body threw itself into one final push. The cold steel smashed against Adair's face, who stumbled backwards one step. He growled once and his hand shot out, clutching Aedan's throat in an iron grip. His fingers dug in, and Aedan dropped his sword and shield. He clawed at the man's hand and sputtered for air._

_"Why don't you put our young noble friend down?"_

_Adair loosened his grip on Aedan's throat and dropped the young man. Aedan gasped for breath and began to sit up. He looked over and saw his brother with several guardsman surrounding Adair and himself. One guardsmen stepped forward, about the same age as his brother, with a stern demeanor about him._

_"My name is Constable Kylon, of the Denerim City Guard." He cracked his neck once and didn't bother to draw his sheathed sword. His hands betrayed his cool demeanor- Kylon nervously fiddled his fingers with his arms almost glued to his sides._

_"Now why should I do that?" breathed Adair cooly._

_"Unlike our young friend there, I have an actual brain on my head. We've got twenty archers marking you, and several guard units blocking off all the exits."_

_The sound of multiples bows strings filled the air. Adair's face soured. His eyes darted around, catching glimpse of the arrows pointed at his direction. They hid on rooftops, behind crates, and even in the trees. He lifted his arms up as he rose. Nobody noticed the inaudible drop of a glass flask from behind his cloak. He stomped once forward. The glass shattered beneath his foot. Smoke bellowed out and covered the area in a thick, nauseous gas. Guards began staggering about and wobbling. Lines of blood began to drip from their nostrils."Evacuate the area!" screamed Kylon._

_The lone swordsman grinned and casually picked up his swords. "Qunari-made, I hope you enjoy." Adair lunged over to Victor's limp body and snatched the man effortlessly up. He walked over to Aedan, who lay struggling on the ground. The sight of Aedan struggling on the floor made him smirk._

_"You're a interesting fellow. Don't die, okay?" Adair whispered, before smashing his foot into Aedan's stomach._

_Fergus swung around, desperately trying to find his brother amidst the chaos."Don't shoot, you'll hit my brother!" The archers complied and brought their bows down, then began to flee the area. "Aedan, we've got to get Aedan!" cried Fergus, who began wading into the gas. Kylon groaned._

_Kylon punched Fergus in the gut and hoisted his limp body onto his shoulder. "Sorry Ser, but I'm not losing two nobles today- the Captain would have my head." The constable looked back once to see Aedan's figure rising upwards."Besides, you should have a little more faith in your brother."_

_Gotta get out of here, thought Aedan. His hand left a bloody print against the ground as he struggled to pull himself up. Where was the blood coming from? His hand traced the path back up his arm to his mouth._

_He stumbled over to Teharel's bleeding body, and hoisted the elf up onto his shoulder. He looked around at the other guards: already some lay on the ground, others were crawling out of the smoke. And, although he had almost been beaten to death, surprisingly Aedan could still stand and walk. He let his feet carry him out into the alleys, where he saw Constable Kylon carrying Fergus. "Looks like you made it out all right," grunted the officer, who put down Fergus onto the steps. "I'll kill you Constable," muttered Fergus, still somewhat delirious._

_"Can you get my friend here to a healer?" Aedan pushed Teharel into Kylons arms. The elf gurgled something through blood. He was trying to say something._

_"I can't, I need to get my men-"_

_"You take care of Teharel, I'll take care of your men." For some reason the symptoms had been delayed in him. He had to help._

_"Are you crazy?" cried out Kylon. There was no answer from Aedan as he lept back into the smoke._

* * *

><p><em>Aedan wringed his fingers, kneading his callouses together. He, Hijaya, and Jarat sat outside the waiting room. Constable Kylon leaned up against the wall, coldly staring at the bodies of his men. Aedan had managed to drag the ones who had collapsed out of the gas, right before he collpased to the ground himself. His recovery time, however, had been shorter than those with minimal exposure to the gas.<em>

_A mage exited Teharel's room. Behind him Aedan could see two Sisters and an elven nurse, their hands soaked in Teharel's blood._

_"The leg has to come off. There's nothing we can do about that. But that isn't the most pressing issue. Your father's liver, is quite frankly, almost broken. The lifetime of excessive alcohol consumption had already put his body into a precarious state. Granted, he's somehow holding up- he seems to have a natural resistance to whatever that sword was coated in."_

_Or induced immunity, thought Aedan, who recalled Teharel feeding him poisonous herbal mixtures to harden his insides. The elf had been insane, but perhaps it had kept Aedan safe from the poison gas. Aedan clenched his hands until they went white. Teharel had protected him, even when the elf had been bleeding and half-dead on the ground. And yet he couldn't do a thing when it mattered. He glanced over at Hijaya. The young elf bit her lip- but a tear escaped her. Aedan watched it run down her cheek, and waver on the tip of her chin. It dropped to the floor and faded away._

_"Is it the same as the one in the flask Adair broke?"_

_The mage shook his head. "No, this one is a qunari mixture, one for which we've have the antidote, Constable. Your men will be fine."_

_"But this poison is unlike anything I've seen. While we are doing our best with our magic, it's made out of several different components that even I can't identify. Without knowing what it is, then within a week-"_

_The mage hesitated. His eyes dropped to the floor. Tears streamed down Hijaya's face. She buried herself in Jarat's arms, whilst her body heaved with her sobs._

_"He will die," muttered the mage. Aedan stood shocked. His mind raced. Teharel couldn't die. Not the incorrigible, tough-as-nails, Teharel. He gritted his teeth._

_"You said you don't know what the poison is, and that's what's preventing you from healing him. What if I found the man who did this, and got the formula from him?"_

_"Then he might be able to make it. He'll have a slim chance, but he could pull through."_

_That sentence was enough to light the fire in Aedan's weary heart. Aedan clasped his hands around Hijaya's shoulders, looking her straight into her tear filled eyes._

_"Hijaya, I'm going to find the man who did this, and I'm going to save your father. I promise you."_

_Aedan motioned the mage to let him through the door. He pushed aside the assistants to see Teharel's mangled leg lay bare on the table, and the pale wrecked body of the elf shuddering in pain._

_"The door's pretty thin you know, I can you hear you all talking," coughed Teharel. He cringed as_

_one of the Sisters began to wrap his arms in bandages._

_"Teharel, that man knew you. I need to know who he is if I'm going to find him."_

_All that Aedan could hear was the tired wheezing of Teharel, who hesitated before whispering, "His name is Adair; we used to work together."_

_"Define work."_

_Teharel glanced through the doorway at Hijaya and Kylon. "Not in front of them."_

_"Teharel, I can't do this without any leads."_

_"Aedan, I don't want anybody else dying because of me." He nodded at Aedan and beckoned him closer with his finger. Aedan kneeled down by Teharel's side. "But I trust you enough to know that you can get out of this alive at least," he let out, his words sounding rushed and desperate, "I need you to do something for me. It may help you find him, it may not-"_

_A scream erupted from him as the nurse dabbed his wounds with an alochol soaked rag. "Oh the irony," he seethed. He motioned to the Sister for a piece of paper. The nurse hesitated. "Shemlen, if you don't give me that paper, I'll bite my own damn leg off. Tell that to your supervisor." Her face twisted in horror as she hastily placed paper and quill to Teharel's side. The elf's hand quavered and struggled to even pick up the quill. He scribbled something on the paper before letting the quill drop to the floor. His body began to convulse again and he held back a scream._

_"Go to this location, and move this information. Don't destroy it- move it. Adair wants it, and I don't want him getting his grubby hands all over it."_

_"Teharel, just tell me what this is all about-"_

_"Aedan. What you read in there..." The elf glanced away in shame. "When you do, please don't think any less of me. I did what was needed," he croaked. His eyes grew glassy and he let breathed out mournfully. Aedan had never seen him look so weak before. He stepped over to the elf and held his hand, giving it a small squeeze. "I'll find him Teharel. Don't worry."_

_"If I don't see you again-"_

_"Don't say it,"Aedan interrupted. He had to succeed. He looked at Teharel with resolute eyes. The elf understood and sighed. "Then fuck you shemlen," chuckled Teharel, who rolled over on his side, "looks like I'm going to have to live as cripple." Aedan gave him a sad smile and quietly shut the door._

_He leaned up against the closed door and squeezed his eyes tightly to hold in the tears. Real men don't cry, damnit, keep it together, thought Aedan. For them._

_The paper crinkled in his clenched hands; He glanced it, and handed it to Kylon. "I'm heading to this address. Know anything about?"_

_"Damn shady part of the neighborhood, that's what. I'll escort you, it's too dangerous for a soft noble like yourself," muttered Kylon. He gripped his sword. "Besides, I want to find the bastard who did this to my fellow guards."_

_As Aedan was leaving, he felt Hijaya's hand upon his shoulder. Her fingers felt cold and ghostly. He didn't want to look back at her. He wouldn't be able to hold it together if he did. Another silent exchange of words passed between the two. Aedan's back told Hijaya everything she needed to know; the wide back that had faced her and her father as Aedan had defended them tooth and nail. She lightly squeezed his shirt between her fingers once before letting go._

_Aedan and Kylon departed through the door into the pouring rain outside. Hijaya collapsed into her husband's arms and wrapped his arms around herself. She let his warmth envelop her, and she let out a deep sigh. Jarat nuzzled up against her head. "Do you think he can do it?" he asked. His hands trembled as well. Hijaya smiled through her tears. She tried as best she could to put it into words what Aedan's back had spoken to her. She clasped her husband's shaking hands in her own, until neither trembled._

_"We've got nothing to be afraid of."_

* * *

><p>PART 2 END<p>

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

_Hey there, hope you've enjoyed this second part of this piece. I just wanted to take the time to thank everyone for reading and reviewing. Sorry if this chapter was a little later than usual, I've got some other things that needed to be taken care. You can expect the next chapter next Friday- I need a little extra time to recharge and finish up some other stuff, as well as generate a little bit of backlog for the story._

__For any of you wondering, yes, Constable Kylon is the same as Captain Kylon (Constable is a lower rank than Captain), in case any of you remember him from the game.__

_A few thoughts on this past part:_

_Originally, I wanted the flashback stories to be more episodic and related specifically to the chapter's content; I take that approach in several chapters, but in others the content is mostly unrelated. I didn't actually plan for the flashback stories to be one single story until I realized 1) I had a great idea for a past story and 2) episodic stories of young Aedan might get a tad bit old after awhile. As we get further into the plot, the past story is going to weave together a lot with the present in terms of characters and plot, and I promise it'll be an interesting read. _

_I always wondered why the Human noble was Grey Warden worthy, moreso than others, and Teharel was my answer to that. He did come across as a bit of a Gary Stu till some of these later chapters, which was somewhat intended: paint Teharel as this wise, unstoppable mentor, then show Aedan that there's always someone stronger- and to still fight despite that. Sorry if Teharel and Adair come off too strong. With the past story, I'm trying to paint a weaker, younger, more impetous Aedan- one more prone to failure, and strong figures like Teharel and Adair put him in his place. There's still a lot more to come for Teharel (but you should still be worried...or not. Who knows). _

_The next part is called Hope. See you then!_


	20. Info

**Part 3: Hope**

_Chapter 20: Info_

"_Brother!" Fergus's figure bounded out out of the neighboring street. His feet slapped against the wet road and he panted as he came to a stop."Where are you going, Father's worried sick!" _

"_Your brother and I are following up on a lead regarding your elven friend's attacker," replied Kylon._

_When those words reach his ears, Fergus's eyes widened in panic. He grasped Aedan by the shoulders and gripped him tight. "Are you serious? Aedan, that man nearly killed you!"_

"_Fergus, Teharel is dying, and the only way we can save him is to find that man and bring him in." Aedan brushed off his brother's hands forcefully. He didn't have time for this, not even from his brother. Teharel's life was on the line._

"_Damn it Aedan! This isn't some game! Stop playing hero or you'll get yourself killed! Leave this to the guards!"_

"_What am I supposed to do? Leave a friend to die?"shouted Aedan, his voice shaking with anger. _

_Kylon placed his hand on Fergus's shoulder. "Fergus, I hate to admit it, but your brother surpasses any of the guardsmen in skill- I need him for this."_

_Whilst the rain continued to fall, Fergus stood there, deliberating. He looked at his brother, in his eyes still the little Aedan who climbed up trees and played tag with him. To imagine him going off to fight...he couldn't. The wounds lay fresh on his body. Aedan gripped his sword till his knuckles went white. And that look of determination in his eyes- for once, Fergus felt shorter than his baby brother._

"_Then I'm coming with you," Fergus said,"You'll need all the help you can get, and although I'm not as good a fighter as Aedan, I can still hold my own."_

"_Not as good doesn't even begin to cover it," muttered Aedan under his breath. Fergus kicked his brother in the shin in response. "I heard that," he seethed back. Fergus had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming at Aedan to stay behind._

_The constable shook his head at their tomfoolery. After clearing his throat, the constable proceeded with his plan: "First off, I know this address, but it's in gang territory. The crime bosses won't be too pleased that nobles and a guardsmen are sniffing around. I revile the thought, but we're going to need to visit the Gnawed Noble first, and get in contact with one of their associates."_

* * *

><p>"It occurs to me that our need to go to Denerim might be more urgent than expected," mused Aedan. The entirety of the group sat circled around the boiling pot, save for Morrigan.<p>

"I'm pretty sure the Chantry's gotten over the whole "time to kill the Circle" thing by now; news has probably gotten to them," retorted Alistair, who yawned rather loudly and stirred the pot. Much to the relief of the others, Wynne had done the cooking this time, not their resident templars.

"Well, our armor and weapons are nearly broken-"

"We can always just strangle the darkspawn-"

"We're almost completely broke and out of food-"

"I find hunger and poverty to be the best spice-"

While he appreciated his comrade's humor, the former noble also appreciated silence when deliberating. The side of his mouth twitched as he struggled not to punch the other warden. "Alistair, you're just pumping out those quips aren't you."

"Well, thought you'd get a rise out of it," shrugged Alistair. Looking at the sheepish grin on the unkempt templar's face, Aedan found it hard to stay mad at him.

"And we should probably assess the political situation and see why everybody is so keen to kill us."

"Yes, you probably should," replied the tied up elf. Aedan glared at him; only a few hours ago the elf, Zevran, had tried to slit his throat. Now they had tied him to a tree for the time being. The fight had been difficult to say the least. A large company of assassins and even a mage had cornered them. The others made short work of the lesser assassins while Aedan had concentrated on Zevran. The elf's attacks were swift and accurate, all aimed at his vitals. However, Aedan had experience in fighting spry elves. The one he had practiced against was faster.

"I say we kill him, before he kills us." Morrigan appeared out of the woods, startling Aedan and the others. The assasin's attack had put them all on edge. It didn't help that Morrigan tended to appear and disappear at her leisure; she didn't care to mingle with others, save for Aedan.

"We're not going to kill him Morrigan."

"Why not? We killed the rest."

"We did because we had to. Now we have time to deliberate."

A wild fit of coughing, courtesy of Zevran, interrupted Morrigan and Aedan's exchange. "Allow me to make an offer Warden," said the elf, still with that cheeky grin.

"Which one?" asked Alistair.

"Excuse me?"

With a hurt expression, Alistair pointed to himself."I'm a Grey Warden too."

The best he could, Zevan shifted towards Alistair and eyed him up and down. The templar fidgeted as Zevran's gaze lingered where it shouldn't. The elf's gaze returned to eye level with Alistair. "Really. Don't seem like it."

Alistair slouched over and sighed. "That's what they all say."

"Don't listen to him buddy, he's just being fresh," said Aedan. His fellow warden's expression brightened. Aedan turned back to Zevran. "And that doesn't help your chances of living."

"I jest, I jest. Just a little fun. I was given both your likenesses. Back to my earlier topic: how would you like to employ my services?"

"We could use an assassin, but we have little coin."

"I was thinking more along the lines of protection. Once the Crows know that I've failed, they'll come after me to close up loose ends, as will the regent's men. Now, if I had a powerful friend protecting me, perhaps they would not be so keen as to come after me, yes?"

"I cover your back, you cover mine?" The man folded his arms in thought. The one thing you could count on at least was people trying to save their own skins.

"Exactly."

A nod of Aedan's head motioned Leliana to undo the ropes. "Let's get going then. We're headed to Denerim."

"No need." When he lifted his arms, the ropes fell limp. "I've taken the liberty."

While the others packed up their gear, Aedan began the process of saddling up the horses. The villagers had been all too happy to spare them after Aedan and the others had saved them from darkspawn. Morrigan wandered over and began poking and examining the saddles. "Curious," she muttered, "that such swift creatures would allow themselves to be subjugated. Then again, they're not too bright."

"Do you not know how to ride a horse?" asked Aedan. He had the feeling she didn't, based on her reaction to the saddle.

"I merely had to travel in animal form; never ride one of those...things." Morrigan shuddered as the horse lazily chewed it's grass. "I shall ride with you, as the other are not quite so...kind of company," she said.

"I can hear you, and it's you that's the ass, not me," called Alistair whilst he mounted his horse.

"I did not hear you, there seems to be a child whining somewhere. Perhaps someone should tend to it."

"You're really just proving my point," Alistair groaned.

The witch scoffed without looking at the templar. Her attention turned to the animal before her, which Aedan had already mounted. Staring at Aedan, she stood there expecting something. After Aedan gave her a confused look, she rolled her eyes and said, "Alright, pick me up."

"That's not how you get onto a horse. How did you think I got on?"

Morrigan muttered under her breath "-lept or something". She attempted to grab the horse and pull herself up. Such a sharp tongue and powerful magic, and yet the woman lacked a practical strength. The mage glared at the chuckling Aedan. Her cheeks reddened at her physical inability. "I will have none of this. Pick me up," she muttered, with her voice a bit softer.

"Fine, fine, my lady," said Aedan. He grabbed her waist and lifted her up with surprising ease. She shifted back and forth trying to find a comfortable position. Once she stopped fidgeting, Morrigan leaned forward against Aedan's back, sliding her arms around his waist and holding him tight.

"You don't have to hold me that close."

"No, I don't." Morrigan squeezed tighter. Aedan felt something warm flesh press against his back. He could already tell she had that devious smile on her face without even looking behind him. It took every ounce of willpower to keep a straight face and not concentrate on the woman behind him.

Aedan wasn't that dense: the stolen glances, the touching, the sultry voice, they had only increased since that night after the Circle of Magi.

Whilst the group rode towards Denerim, Aedan contemplated her possible endgame. Everyone had an angle. Morrigan voiced her opinions more readily than most, but that didn't mean she kept no secrets. Flemeth sent her for a reason, and no doubt Morrigan was trying to get into his better graces.

What bothered him the most is how good she was at doing so. The minute he decided he would tell her to back off, she became cold and gave him his space. The minute he missed her presence and advances, she'd appear. He had been foolish up until- he hadn't realized he had let her get this close, let her insinuate herself into his daily routine.

Worse was how much he enjoyed it. She always inquired about the world beyond the Wilds, and Aedan liked talking with her. She'd make a snide comment and he'd chuckle to himself. She'd notice and give that enticing smile of hers. He'd make a joke and for once she'd laugh and smile, unlike with the others.

He glanced backwards at her. Unlike before, her attention now fixated on the mountains to the north. Her gaze had softened. Her eyes watched the jagged edge of the mountain line as it zig-zagged across the sky. She caught Aedan looking at her in her daze and stuttered in a flustered tone, "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing. I just remembered how you told me you wanted to see the mountains." Even though she maintained a high level of control, Aedan enjoyed finding a way to catch her offguard. He caught himself mid-thought and wrenched his head forward. He needed to concentrate. Now wasn't the time or place to get attached, and especially not to Morrigan.

The drunken advice of his brother came to mind, relayed after a particularly rowdy night of shots: "_Aedan, Aedan, buddy! Don't ever poop where you eat: I know you're hankering after that new maid, but keep it in your pants buddy. Damn she's a fine woman." _Considering the new maid's had more wrinkles than Mother, Aedan was fairly certain that his brother had had one too many.

The advice still held true though. Getting involved with Morrigan, whom he constantly traveled with, could hamper the mission. Even worse, what if he let her get close, and she betrayed him, just like Howe? He wouldn't let something like that happen ever again. Better to stay at a distance.

Despite his thoughts, his eyes wandered again to Morrigan. That alluring neckline, that perfect lithe body, her porcelain-like face. She stared at the mountains again, too distracted by their grandeur to notice him. Aedan forced his head forward again.

_Get her out of your head. Nothing good could come of that. _

Assasins, apostates, and archdemons. Letting the wind cool his face and mind, Aedan rubbed his brow with his spare hand. _I need a break._

* * *

><p>"Alright, Sten, Alistair, you two are in charge of equipment and repairs. Here's the rest of the money, find someway to get us some decent equipment. Wade's good, but his prices can be a little steep. There might be some cheaper merchants somewhere in the Market District. Morrigan, you should-"<p>

"I do not wish to enter the city- tis too many templars about." Morrigan crossed his arms and planted herself by the forest's edge.

"You could just shapeshift," suggested Aedan.

The woman did not budge, and her arms tightened. "And it is far too noisy, and smells of filth." The image of the dirty streets sent a scowl across her face.

"It'd really be better if you came with us Morrigan. We need to stick together."

"I shall be find on my own; I shall be gathering supplies from the nearby forests."

"Morrigan-"

She gave him a stern look. Clearly she didn't want to go into the crowded city. Aedan relented and waved her off to the forest."Fine." The witch vanished beneath the veil of leaves.

"Leliana, Wynne, go to the chantry and sort out the whole Circle business. Wynne, you're a Circle mage and Leliana you used to be a sister, so they should trust you."

"Zevran, you're coming with me. I have some business I need to take care, some old contacts who could do some favors for us. I'll try and scrounge up some gold for our trip and gather information. I could use someone of a stealthy nature."

"Hold on-" Leliana handed Alistair and Aedan both a folded brown cloth. Aedan wrapped his hands around the rough burlap cloth and shook it. The cloak unfurled and flapped against the wind. "I doubt that you will want people to recognize you, no? I bought them from a merchant on the way here for you two."

"Thank you for the gift Leliana." Aedan wrapped the cloak about his leather armor and pulled up the hood. "Let me see how much this covers." Kneeling in front of the nearby river, the warden peered at it's glassy surface.

Despite the flimsy material, the cloak did a good job; neither his face nor weapons were visible. Upon seeing his own cloaked figure, Aedan's mind wandered to Adair's image, on that wretched night in Denerim. Cloaked, hooded, and performing his mission in secret. The irony provoked a grim smile.

As the group walked through the gate and scattered, Aedan couldn't help but fidget. Alistair and Sten had taken both his sword and shield to be repaired. The only weapon he had on him was Nan's kitchen knife. His uneasiness faded as he wrapped his hands around the handle. To be fair, the knife had always gotten him out a pinch. The guards eyed him, but didn't move to apprehend him. With the knife hidden in his pocket, and no other visible weapons, Aedan didn't appear to pose any threat to them, despite his suspicious hooded nature.

Denerim. It had been awhile. The market district bustled with chatter. Instead of the drab ragged refugees of Lothering, the square filled to the brim with colorful merchants and finely dressed nobles. Commoners too mingled in, purchasing fresh food and chatting with each other. The chaos of the Blight hadn't reached the city yet; the people could still smile and laugh. Aedan was thankful for that.

He and Zevran made their way through the crowded market square until he came upon his destination. The familiar sight of the Teryn of Highever's estate lay in front of him. Guards had been posted around the entrance, but Aedan could still see past the gate into the courtyard The old tree he used to climb still stood; during his youth, when his father met at the Landsmeet, he would climb up and play with his brother.

"And, pray tell me, are we at Teryn Howe's estate?"

Just like that, the idyllic daydream shattered. Aedan's vein almost popped. "What the hell did you just say?" Without thinking, Aedan grabbed the elf by the collar and puylled him upwards.

"Why are we at Teryn Howe est-"

"Teryn Howe." The words burned in his mouth and left a sour aftertaste. Zevran unpried Aedan's fingers and dropped to the floor. "When the hell did that slimy bastard become Teyrn?" he seethed.

"Didn't you hear about the Couslands?" said Zevran, who brushed the dust off his tunic with quick swipes.

Enraged, Aedan had to bit his tongue to maintain control. "Do tell. I've been out of the loop for awhile." Almost two months now since he had fled Highever.

"The Cousland's were conspiring with the Orlesisans, helping them get a foothold in Ferelden. Apparently Howe stumbled upon their treachery and stopped their plans. The entire family was slaughtered, save for..." Zevran smiled and pointed at Aedan, "you, Aedan Cousland."

The warden took a step back. "You know who I am?" His fingers pawed at Nan's knife. Despite the elf's earlier promise, it didn't hurt to be wary.

"You can relax with the knife Warden. You're the only person that can keep me from being killed- I'm not going to hurt you...unless you try to hurt me."

With that, Aedan guided his fingers away from his knife. "There. Now, tell me why you know who I am."

Leaning up against the rugged stone wall, Zevran shrugged his hands outwards and stated as though it were obvious: "What sort of assassin would I be if I didn't research my target?"

"What sort of assassin can't kill his target?"

"'What sort of Grey Warden tries to avoid killing? I noticed you could have killed me at anytime while we fought. And yet you drew it out unnecessarily just so you could disable me. Not that I'm complaining."

So he had noticed. Aedan grumbled. That was another piece of information that Zevran had stacked against him. "I kill when I need to. Not because someone payed me off. A person's life is worth more than a sack of gold."

"How much would you say Howe's is worth than?" said Zevran who relished the words as they slipped off his tongue. Aedan's expression darkened and his teeth ground against one another. And his eyes- there was the briefest spark of something Zevran knew well.

The eyes of a killer.

"I thought so."

"That's in the past. All of it," stated Aedan. When he stepped forward, he gave the elf a look so menacing even Zevran calm smile faded. " Right now, I need to get into my...Howe's house."

With a grumble, the elf hoisted himself up onto the surrounding wall. He zig-zagged along the exterior wall, then returned with his findings. "There's guards everywhere, I doubt we can get in." What exactly were you planning to get out of this?"

"My old weapons, armor, the gold from our treasury." Aedan peered around the corner, weary of the guards' eyes. Hooded mysterious figures were generally not allowed anymore in the Teryn of Highever's estate. "Be useful," he complained, then elbowed Zevran. "Sneak in or something."

"I won't be able to carry anything out of substantial worth without being notice by guards. You ever tried sneaking a whole suit of armor out of a palace? I have, and the Antivan royalty was not happy at all."

"That...actually sounds like an interesting story. You'll have to tell me sometime."

"Another time Warden, for both that story and this requisition of yours." Zevran sighed. "I used to know quite the saucy little thief. A pity that she's probably fled the Blight by now. Isabela never was the type to rise to the occasion."

"Go back and meet up with Alistair and Sten; they'll need help carrying the equipment...and most likely they don't know their way around the city."

"Are you sure you just want me to go off on my own? What if I come back and assassinate you?"

"I take care of my comrades Zevran; whether you choose to stand behind me or get in my way, that's your choice. I may not like killing, but if you try to hurt me or anybody else-"

_That spark in his eyes again_, thought Zevran. _Every reason to kill but he holds it in. Interesting._

"I'll do to you what I plan on doing to Howe."

Zevran saluted him nonchalantly, "Don't worry Warden"

Once Zevran had left, Aedan was left wondering: what was he going to do to Howe? Gut him? Jail him? Leave him to hang above the ruins of Castle Highever? He honestly didn't know.

Walking into the Gnawed Noble, Aedan was greeted by the familiar sight of nobles chatting away and partaking in drink. He paused briefly as he passed his usual booth. Looking more closely, he could still see the his initials carved onto the side of the table. His hand lingered on the wooden booth, as he considered sitting down for old times sake. Maybe call over a bar wench, get rowdy, and drink away his troubles. He certainly had enough of those.

The fantasy faded, and Aedan realized he had lingered a bit too long at the booth. A serving girl looked at him suspiciously. Hurriedly Aedan secured himself a seat at the bar, away from any other nobles. He tapped twice on the counter.

"Coming, coming," said the bartender. Ewan. Aedan had always been a frequenter of the Gnawed Noble, even before he knew Evan's true associations. Before asking for his order, Ewan furrowed his brow at the sight of the hooded man in front of him."Do I know you?"he asked, looking around suspiciously.

"Has it really been that long Ewan?"

"I-" Ewan peered in further underneath the hood. Fierce eyes stared back.

"Maker. They said you all died."

"Who? Grey Wardens, or Couslands? People really don't seem to like me alive," grunted Aedan.

"Hasn't it always been like that?" chuckled Ewan, who slid a glass over and poured Aedan a scotch. "On the house. I owe you that much. You tipped well, unlike some other bastards here. Besides, you're the person in this bloody city who needs it the most."

The glass was cold to the touch. Aedan lifted the glass and sipped the drink, letting it swirl in his mouth. He had missed the taste of a good scotch.

Aedan nursed his scotch as Ewan began to relay the events that had played out since Ostagar. Loghain had arrived and declared the Grey Wardens traitors. It had been easy for him to blame them on the Orlesians, just as he did the Couslands. Loghain was now regent, with Anora serving as a figurehead- the last tie to the throne. Even more disconcerting, however-

"Let me get this straight- there's a Blight on our doorsteps, and we're at civil war." In one last swig Aedan emptied his entire glass into his throat. He winced at the burning against his throat.

"When Loghain acted without the Bannorn's approval, he stepped on a lot of toes."

The light outside dimmed, and most of the bar already cleared out. Whilst scrubbing down the counter, Ewan leaned in and pulled out a ragged piece of paper. "By the way...a friend of yours asked me to give this to you. He spotted you today and figured you might come here. You know how him and me don't exactly get along." EWAN shook his head and stifled a laugh. "That bastard. You hear he's Sergeant now?"

Ewan slid the paper across the worn bar surface.

_to A_

_meet me at the pearl. h didnt confiscate everything._

_K_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

_Hey everybody, hope you enjoy the latest chapter. The next one will be about a week. As always, reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated!_


	21. Responsibility

**Part 3: Hope**

_Chapter 21: Responsibility_

_The smell of booze permeating the air reminded Aedan of Teharel. The elf often smelt like a dwarf- filthy and drunk. The same scent lingered in the Gnawed Noble's bar during peak hours. Workers, nobles, and merchants alike gathered at the bar's crooked wooden tables. Although usually, _

"_Ah, Ewan, there you are."_

"_Ewan?"_

"_Aedan? Fergus?" The bartender looked at the two nobles, then back at Kylon, then back at them again. A sinking feeling grew in his stomach. _

"_You know Ewan?"_

"_I come to the bar here on occasion whenever we're in town. Are you the contact here Ewan?" asked Aedan._

"_Well Kylon, you just bloody lost me two regulars." The bartender scowled at the officer and pointed at the door._

"_I don't give a shit about you Ewan," replied Kylon with equal disdain. He leaned up against the bar and whispered, "I need to get into contact with D."_

"_Really, is that how you're going to be? I take this bloody informant position, risking my neck, and you treat me like shit?"_

"_Don't kid yourself Ewan- we could have let you rot in a cell for your crimes. You're lucky we offered you this."_

_Two rather burly men swaggered over to Aedan and the others. Out in the open, strapped to their side, were rather sharp looking weapons. Ewan gulped and tugged at his collar. He made frantic eye movements at Kylon, beckoning him to the door._

"_Hey, you got some business with our friend here?"_

"_None at all sir, none at all," smiled Fergus the best he could, elbowing Aedan to back away. Aedan's feet stood planted where they were._

"_Who the hell are you supposed to be?"_

_The man poked Aedan square in the chest, breathing his rancid breath on him. Fists clenched, Aedan struggled to keep his mind sane. All he could think about was Teharel, laying dying in the hospital, but he knew the situation needed to be handled with finesse. "Nobody. Just here on business with the Constable," seethed Aedan. _

"_Well see, that's the problem. We don't like his kind poking his nose into our business. Now scram." The burly man waved his hand towards the door. His smile infuriated Aedan; so cocky, so condescending. _

_Kylon stepped forward between the two. "I'm afraid we can't do that. I need to see D."_

"_Why the bloody hell would we let you meet our boss? I don't he'd take too kindly to the authorities lounging around in his territory."_

"_Look, I don't know who you are, which means that clearly you are pretty far down on the chain of command in the gang, as I know most of the bigger players. You are neither important enough to warrant a second glance from D, nor are you insignificant enough to escape the eyes of the law."_

_The gang member slanted his eyes at Kylon. A low growl escaped from his clenched teeth. Kylon rolled his eyes. "A little bit cliche of me to say, but we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. And based on how angry and desperate my friend is over here, it'll be very painful for you."_

_Before Kylon could react, the sound of a dozen swords unsheathing filled the air, followed by the gang member's reply: "Oh, I'm sure it will be very painful."_

* * *

><p>Despite his familiarity with Denerim, Aedan had never sought to set foot inside of the Pearl, or even set near it. Some of the other noble sond had partied there, and even the nobles themselves. Being the Teyrn of Highever's son, however, meant he had to keep a certain level of respectability. Prostitution didn't make the cut of approved activities.<p>

Dirt caked his boots- nobody maintained the sidewalks very well here. Surprisingly, the Pearl's exterior looked far more grandiose than the surrounding buildings. Little candles lay perched around it's roof, with silken scarves strewn through the rafters. One of their employees eyed Aedan up and down as he approached.

"You're not one of our regulars, but I'd be glad to help you get acquainted." She flashed him a lipstick smeared smile. It faded once she got a better look at him. She sighed in annoyance. "But it doesn't look like you're here for our business, do you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"When you're on the streets, you learn to keep a lookout. Noble boys going through puberty, their pockets bursting with gold from their rich little fathers. Those shady fellows that follow you for a bit too long in the dead of the night."

"I'm a unshaven, unkempt hooded man in a cloak. I'd think I look like the kind of shady sort that comes here."

"We whores are smarter than you think. How else do you think we manage to squeeze piles of coin out of our customers? Most of the people who come here aren't shady at all: they're just looking for a good time, a little fun to brighten up their terrible day."

"Although you do look like you've had a terrible time of it. Sure you're not interested?" said the whore, who plastered her face with that smile of hers.

"Well, you're right about one thing. I'm here on business." The whore dropped her smile again and stepped aside. Once the sergeant noticed Aedan entering, he gave him a discreet wave and beckoned him to the corner table. A rowdy group of mercenaries rabbled on the opposite side of the room, distracting the whores and customers from Aedan's arrival.

"So how'd you recognize me? I've been trying my best; got a nice stubble going, covered myself up," said Aedan as he settled into the seat.

"They did a good job with the wanted poster, and unlike my coworkers, I tend to actually care about suspicious characters walking around in hoods."

Silence lingered whilst Aedan drummed his fingers against the table. Finally, once it had become unbearable, the warden asked, "So...do you believe it?"

"Not one word. I doubt Grey Wardens would betray the king to help darkspawn. Then, when I saw your face on the posters, I knew it had to be a lie. Rest assured Aedan. I'm not turning you in."

"That's good to hear," breathed Aedan, "I have little enough friends as it is." He tried to wave over the waitress, but she was held up with other orders. Another few seconds of silence passed before Kylon finally said, "Aedan, my condolences regarding...your family."

For awhile, Aedan said nothing. Having seen the estate earlier that day had left the wounds of the past fresh in his mind. "Tell me, how is it Howe was able to get away with it?" he asked, barely contained anger trickling through his voice.

"He's a tricky bastard. He's bribed all the right people, and is now Loghain's right hand man. It seems he was planning this for awhile. He's left virtually no trail."

"Damn it. What about my estate? I saw he moved in: is there anything left? Being a Grey Warden doesn't exactly pay, and we need some amount of resources to keep going."

"He had everything confiscated and locked in his personal treasury. Well, almost everything."

Kylon hoisted a medium sized box from beneath the table. When Aedan held it in his hands, he remembered the day he had recieved the box: and when he remembered who gave it to him, he scowled.

"Before his guards raided your place, I snuck into your room and got this- couldn't open it though. Things solid as a rock."

"It's...a coin box. Special dwarven design lock, you have to know how to open it, and know the code. Only two people know how to open it with the code. Me...and the person who gave it to me."

How old had he been? Five, maybe six- Aedan couldn't remember exactly. It had been his birthday, and despite the Teyrn of Highever's high position within the political community, the party size had been kept to only the closest family friends. His fingers fiddled with the lock, shifting the gears about till the box made strange clicking sound.

"Howe."

Inside lay a sizeable pile of solid gold sovereigns. Some lay at the bottom, dusty and old. Others on the top had the newest mint upon them.

"I used to save them in here when I was little onwards," said Aedan, his voice barely audible, "Even some of the loot we found back then, you and me, I put it in here. Howe said, when he gave this to me, 'Learning to save your money will teach you to become a fine young man, worthy of being a noble.'"

Whilst he sifted through the coins, Aedan remembered what he had put in as the first thing, that very day of his birthday. He dug to the bottom, and pulled out an old, faded parchment. A horrendous drawing of a man holding hands with a tiny boy was scribbled upon it's surface. Written on the bottom, with the terrible handwriting of a five-year old:

"Me and Uncle Howe," seethed Aedan. The paper crinkled in his hands as he crumpled up the paper. With a flick of his wrist he tossed it into the nearby fireplace."How could I not have seen this coming? I bet he even gave me this box so he could steal all of it back from me later." His head hung as the thoughts began to run through his mind: what could he have done to prevent this?

"You did the best you could Aedan. All of you did. It's not your fault."

"Maybe it's not my fault that Howe attacked, but..."

Aedam sighed and took a deep breath. He struggled to find the words to say what he had been thinking since that fateful day. "I left them Kylon. My father was badly wounded. He and my mother stayed behind to give me and Duncan time to leave. I abandoned them in their time of greatest need, so I could live."

"Aedan, you can't blame yourself. It's a parent's job to put their child's safety above their own."

"I know Kylon, but still. It's just so hard to shift perspectives like that. They are-"

His voice cracked.

"-were my family. We're supposed to look out for each other."

"Aedan. I know there's no words I can say to rid you of your grief. Time's the only cure for that. But right now, you can't keep worrying about the past Aedan. You've got a job to do now."

"Right, right" sighed Aedan, who motioned over at the waitress. The warden groaned- the waitress was held up by the incessant noise and orders of a nearby mercenary group. Kylon took the opportunity to change the tense atmosphere; he leaned in and pointed over at the rowdy mercenaries.

"See those mercenaries there? The White Falcon's, rowdy old bunch. Sanga called me in here to get them to clear out, but they've pegged me as a guard, and they're quite anti-establishment. You mind convincing them to leave?"

A smile grew across Aedan's face. "Kylon, you dirty bastard, did you get me to come out here to do some of your work for you? No wonder they've promoted you," he chuckled.

Despite the fact it would come out of his own paycheck, Kylon stated,"I'll pay you."

Almost instantly, Aedan slapped both hands on the table and strode off.

* * *

><p>"<em>Please...please don't kill me!" <em>

"_I'm not going to kill you, for goodness sakes," groaned Aedan as he untied the man. The whimpers and sniffling were however getting on his nerves. After Aedan and the others had dispatched the other men, Kylon had rounded up the other guardsmen to take them into prison. The other eleven lay beaten and battered. Blood weakly streamed from their wounds; not enough to kill them, as it was only skin deep. Despite his rage, Aedan still knew restraint. He rubbed his black eye in irritation._

"_Just arrange a meeting with D for us, okay? Be back here before sundown, or else your friends are going to rot in the dungeons. And I'm sure D wouldn't be too pleased if they happened to snitch about anything, now would he?"_

_The constable held back a laugh as the man booked it out of the bar. Ewan, however, was not as amused._

"_You could have completely blown my cover, you asshole." The bartender spat on the bar counter and began to shine it. Fergus grimaced and stopped leaning on the counter. _

"_I'm sorry Ewan, we're just in a time constrained situation right now. I promise to make it up to you." Kylon slid a piece of paper towards Ewan. Despite his skeptical mood, the bartender peeked underneath the paper. __After a slight pause, a glass of ale slid down the counter. "Apology accepted, you asshole."_

* * *

><p>"Well Aedan, it's been good seeing you again. I have no doubt that you'll be stopping by Denerim again, so if you ever need me, just call." With that, the Seargent strode out the door of the Pearl, ignoring the looks of a rather burly looking prostitute.<p>

Just as Aedan was about to get up and leave, a voice behind him purred, "A pity that you didn't put on more of a show in getting those louts to clear out. I do like a good fight." Still somewhat grumpy from the events of the day, Aedan turned around expecting yet another problem. What he saw was a tan-skinned pirate beauty.

What she had on could barely be called an outfit; her breasts were barely corralled by her linen top. Thick luscious hair fell to her shoulders and swayed as she approached. Her earrings glinted against the oil lamp's haze. Was she even wearing pants? The woman sauntered over and flashed him a coy smile."You look like you could use a break."

"Isabela, captain of the Siren's Call." The woman slid into the neighboring seat, ever so slightly leaning up against Aedan. "So, here to sample the Pearl's delicious goods? I prefer Amber over there. Spicy between the sheets and the body of goddess." Aedan had to pinch himself to concentrate on her eyes, not directly below.

"Just business. They don't call us Grey Wardens for nothing- we have to keep working until our hair goes grey from stress."

"Hmmm...You really do have that Grey Wayden aura about you," cooed the woman.

"Aura?"

"How can I describe it: it just sort of...draws people to you. A leader of men, savior of the innocent, ravisher of woman, something like that." The woman licked her lips. Aedan raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Sounds about right." He glanced out the window. The sun had begun to set, and he had promised to meet the others in the morning. As his eyes wavered over Isabela, he couldn't help but want to make some time for her.

"I have a couple of hours to kill, and I could certainly use a drink."

"Well," smiled Isabela, "that's good to hear. I too have some spare time: I leave Ferelden in the morn, lest the Blight take me." She waved over at Sanga, shouting, "Sanga my dear, two pints of ale for us!"

How long had it been since he had just sat down and enjoyed tomfoolery. Isabela's warm fingers glided across his arm as they conversed. A little fun wouldn't hurt. Get his mind off of that witch and her machinations. He needed to keep her out. He'd never see Isabela again. Wouldn't have to worry about getting too attached, nor about ulterior motives.

"You seem to have been in quite few scraps yourself." He brushed his finger across her cheek, running it over a faint scar.

"Yes, I've traveled about, dueling many blokes who never stood a chance."

"Care to give me a few pointers?"

"Really? A Grey Warden asking me for combat advice? I'll take that as a compliment." The woman brushed her hair back and flashed him a smile.

"The man who believes he has nothing to learn from others is a fool," stated Aedan. He wasn't lying when he said he wanted advice; she had taken down those men rather quickly, and eventually he might have to face off against Howe and Loghain.

"My ships are are right over by the docks." Isabela intertwined her arm in his and pulled him against her chest. "I think you'll find my cabin to be a suitable arena."

* * *

><p>"Remove that leather armor of yours. It'll constrict your movement and I think you'll find you'll need to be quick to keep up with me."<p>

Isable barreled forward and flipped right over Aedan's head. Unexpected. He had never faced such an acrobatic foe. He spun around just in time to dodge a flurry of blows from Isabela. He caught her wrist in his hand and pulled in her in tight. By the time he attempted to attack, she had jumped over her bed to the surrounding side.

"Mind your surroundings Warden. Every duel has a setting that you can take advantage of."

Aedan smiled and slammed his hands against her bed, sending the wooden frame sliding towards Isabela. "Like I don't know that." The look on Isabela's face told Aedan that she had never quite faced a brute force opponent.

Despite the quick counterattack, Isabela dodged by swinging onto the ceiling. She catapulted at him. Aedan sidestepped and Isabela landed like a cat on all fours.

"Forceful, quick, but always keep your eye on the enemy. They may have a trick or two up their sleeves."

She stepped down on a creaky wooden plank, causing Aedan to lose his footing. The warden stumbled onto his back. Isabela landed on top of him, a dagger to him. In one swipe she grasped his shirt and tore it open with her knife.

In one swift movement, he grabbed her toned thigh and thrust her up against the wall. The cabin shook ever so slightly with the force, and Isabela gave a little moan. His lips hovered above hers, separated only by their breath. He could feel her soft voluptuous chest rise and fall against his own. He let the moment simmer and the heat build between them.

"I'll have you know I never lose in bed," panted Isabela through heated breaths. Her glanced downwards once at his lips, waiting impatiently.

"We'll have to see about that," he chuckled, before finally diving in for a kiss.

* * *

><p><em>The hour of twilight had come, and with it a knock on the door.<em>

"_Blow the candles out," came a voice from behind the door. Kylon nodded to Fergus, who blew out the candle. The smell of burning wax permeated the air and the darkness engulfed them. The footsteps of a rather heavy man, followed by the lightest of steps, creaked against the wooden floor._

"_Constable Kylon, a pleasure to finally meet you," breathed a rather throaty voice, "You're quite the up and coming guardsmen among your peers. See to it that you don't rise too quickly."_

_Kylon's usual quips were gone. Aedan couldn't see his face, but he heard an inaudible gulp across the room. _

"_No need to worry Constable. You can continue playing your little games of law and order. Just let me play in the shadows, and do the dirty work of society, and we'll be fine."_

"_I'm more interested in why there are two Couslands standing here. What business might you two with me?" An eerie terror shot through Aedan's veins. Such a calm voice, as though he owned the very city. Perhaps he did._

"_There's a warehouse in your territory that we need to get to." Aedan clasped his sword's hilt. He didn't like that feel of this meeting._

"_Family secret I see. And you can take your hand off your sword. I've no intention of hurting those who've done me no wrong."_

_Aedan relaxed his hand."Not our secrets, but my friend is going to die unless I can get the man who is after that information. He's extremely dangerous, and he's poisoned my friend."_

"_How dangerous? I'd like to know what sort of trouble you might be bringing to my turf."_

"_He's a master swordsman, able to take on a whole platoon of guards, and is armed with qunari explosives and poisons."_

_D took in a single breath of disdain."This man wouldn't happen to be named Adair, now would he?"_

"_He would."_

_Even in the darkness, Aedan swore he could see the glint of D's perfectly formed smile in the darkness."Well, Ser Cousland, it seems we have a mutual enemy. And as they say, the enemy of your enemy-"_

"_-is your friend," finished Aedan, a sour feeling in his stomach._

* * *

><p>Isabela and Aedan collapsed, panting and tangled in each other's sweaty limbs and flushed bodies.<p>

"I guess...we'll...have to call that one a tie," panted Isabela as she nuzzled up against Aedan.

"For once, I'll have to agree," chuckled Aedan back.

"I shall be setting sail soon, so I doubt our paths will cross again. Unless of course, you'd like to join my crew." Isabela rolled onto him, giving little kisses down his neck. Her hot sweaty skin burned against his own. "Your talents would be so wasted fighting darkspawn."

Aedan smiled for a moment, thinking what it would be like. Life on a pirate's ship, nothing but adventure and the sea at his back, with a beautiful woman by his side. Isabela's luscious body rubbing up against his certainly left nothing to the imagination.

"Unfortunately, I have an Archdemon to kill." He kissed her on the forehead and sat up. Isabela pouted in disappointment. "The responsible type, hmmm. No fun at all. My advice to you; get laid more often. You're quite good at it and it'll keep the stress from killing you."

Whilst pulling a shirt over his head, a thought occured to Aedan. Isabela had mentioned she was quite good at breaking and entering."Care to have a little more fun?" he said with a sinister grin.

Intrigued, Isabela licked her lips. "What did you have in mind?"

"Thievery, desecration of private property, alcohol."

Isabela pulled Aedan back down onto the bed and rolled back on top of him. "Careful Warden, I may just kidnap you by force."

* * *

><p>The orange glow of the sunset reflected against the dusty gold relics whilst Aedan sorted through them. It felt strange, to actually touch these heirlooms. His father had never let him and his brother play in the vault, and as he had grown up, he had never seen a reason to go in there, up until now. After he and Isabela had made a run into his family's former vault, and a quick stop at their liquor cabinet, the two had scampered off into the dark towards the docks of Denerim.<p>

There was a feeling of sentimentality, seeing his family's old things sorted by him and Isabela, but he pushed it down. Kylon was right; he had a job to do. He couldn't let the past prevent him from moving forward. Isabela had recommended a good pawn shop in the corners of the Market District that would take questionable goods.

With tinge of reluctance, Aedan handed her a heavy sack of gold."As promised, half the gold and loot."

"Ooh- I like this little blue bandanna- is this silk? I think I'll take that," giggled Isabela who plucked the item from Aedan's pile and stuffed it into her own. The woman began to rifle through her bag of treasure with childlike glee, her eyes sparkling like it was her birthday. Better that the relics of the past be used for enjoyment, then sit collecting dust in Howe's possession, thought Aedan.

A sudden gust of wind rushed against his face, and the smell of the sea and the beautiful sunset at the docks overwhelmed him. Whilst the wind blew through his hair, he sat and enjoyed the brief respite from all the fighting. Aedan took his boots off and hung his feet from the docks. The salty water stung against the cuts and blisters on his feet.

With a different sort of smile, Isabela sat down besides him."It's beautiful, isn't it? The sea," she whispered.

"Yeah," sighed Aedan.

"You sure you don't want to reconsider my offer? I'm being dead serious," the woman said. "All of the adventure, with none of the responsibility. You can escape it."

Aedan smiled sadly while looking at the rising sun reflected against the waves. "I'd love to. I really would. But I have to do this. People died to give me this chance, this one chance at stopping this Blight. If I don't, then no matter where I sail, no matter how hard I run, I could never live with myself knowing I could have saved even just one more life."

Isabela leaned her head against his shoulder and continued to gaze into the distance."You're a decent man, you know that. There are very few of you left in the world. It's good to know that someone like you is a Grey Warden, looking out for us. Gives me hope." Aedan turned to look at her. For the first time that night, Isabela gave him a tender, softer look. She hesitated before leaning in and pecking him on the lips, letting her lips linger for the briefest moment.

"That one's for good luck."

* * *

><p>The rest of the morning, after Isabela's departure, lacked the adventure, but more of the gold. The merchant had looked at Aedan's loot with wide eyed greed and attempted to hustle him out of the goods. Aedan had managed to make off with a decent enough deal. Enough that when he returned to the others and held up the sack:<p>

"Maker," breathed Leliana, "where did that come from?"

Wynne gave him a suspicious look. Aedan nervously scratched his cheek and looked away while he muttered, "Savings."

Alistair however snatched up the sack and began looking through it, "Well, for one, I'm not complaining. How much is in here?"

"Enough," said Aedan, who snatched back the bag and strapped it to his man mounted up onto his horse and turned to face the others. "Come on. We're going to Redcliffe. I've heard some rumors that the Arl is sick or something. Maybe you can help him Wynne."

While the other mounted up onto their horses, Aedan once again picked up Morrigan and helped her up. As he pulled her in, Morrigan smelt something rather peculiar. She frowned and pinched his arm rather painfully. "You smell like filth. Did you roll in the mud or something?"

"Something like that," chuckled Aedan. Morrigan glared at him. He had on a smile that rubbed her in the wrong way. "I think I shall accompany you next time into the city," she stated rather authoritatively, "lest you get in trouble again."

"Thought you said the city was filthy-" piped Alistair, before Morrigan whipped her head and gave him a start that could kill an Archdemon

"I said I shall be accompanying him next time and that is that," came her reply, not so subtly tinged with annoyance.

_He is drawing away_, she thought.

This would be more difficult than she thought and she needed no extra complications.

For there was work to be done.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

_And we're back. Sorry about the long wait, but I'm hoping to get back on a regular update schedule- expect the next chapter in a week. See you then!_


	22. Secrets

**Part 3: Hope**

_Chapter 22: Secrets_

"One might think, that with the Mage Tower in such disarray, they might be privy to raiders and thieves," mused Morrigan, whilst stirring the stew.

Tonight was Aedan and Morrigan's turn to cook. The group had taken up rotations, with Zevran being excluded for reasons of poison, and Alistair being excluded for the similar reasons. Out of all of them, Aedan liked Morrigan's cooking the most, but he didn't dare tell her, lest she think he was ordering her to cook. Alistair's attempts to ask her to had not ended well.

"They have a templar army and people who can throw fireballs- I think they'll be just fine Morrigan." Aedan finished wiping off Nan's knife and began slicing onions. Aedan's money had come in handy to buy some decent produce from the nearby villages. His eyes stung as the odors wifted up to his eyes.

"Tis true; but certainly infiltration would not be out of the option for potential thieves."

A familiar feeling crept through Aedan: somebody wanted him to do something. Per usual. "By 'potential thieves', are you referring to me?"

Morrigan flashed him a coy smile."Whatever do you mean my dear Warden? I'm certainly not suggesting that we go in and steal something like...oh I don't know..." With her finger to her lips, she pretended to think before snapping her fingers."A book?"

"And what kind of book would this be- ow!" Holding his finger in his hand, Aedan winced as blood dribbled down his hand. Despite their time on the road, Aedan still wasn't very good at preparing meals.

"Aren't you supposed to be good with blades?" smirked Morrigan. She unwrapped a roll of bandages from her pack. "Hold out your hand." Aedan grumbled and held out his bloody finger. Morrigan continued to talk whilst she wrapped his hand. "My mother, several years ago, lost a certain grimoire to a rather pesky templar, much to her ire. With you in the good graces of the tower, and seeing as how we are returning there to deliver the Chantry's response, you would be the ideal candidate to retrieve said grimoire."

"What's inside? Spells? Rituals?" Aedan flexed his bandaged fingers out after Morrigan had finished. Hopefully it wouldn't get in the way of his fighting, but Morrigan had wrapped it well around the contours of his fingers. His fingers moved freely and unrestricted.

"Something to cause my mother to drop that conniving little grin of hers and burn half the Wilds down in anger, so I assume it to be quite valuable. It could greatly help my own abilities, in and out of combat." Morrigan threw in the rest of the vegetables into the pot, and motioned her hands quickly; the fire abruptly simmered down at her command. The practical uses of magic, besides eliminating enemies, never failed to amuse Aedan. During his time at Castle Highever, his mental image of mages were old, wizened creatures who conquered up storms, or hideous swamp witches that kidnapped children. He had at least gotten the swamp witch part right, and was thankful he hadn't gotten the hideous part right.

"Alright, so it's useful. Why not ask someone more stealthy, like Zevran?"

"Before or after he finished lecherously staring at my breasts?"

"Or Leliana?"

"Before or after she finished lecherously staring at my breasts?"

Aedan blinked twice. "She does th- I mean, someone could spot me rifling through their belongings, not to mention there's a whole tower." He coughed into his hand, trying very hard to hide his expression. Morrigan smirked again, leaning over him to peer into the contents of the pot. Aedan tried his best not to glance sideways. "I believe out of all the fools that we travel with that you are the least foolish," she replied.

"Not sure if that's a compliment," grumbled Aedan.

"The others wouldn't understand that the contents of that book could help us. They would simply label it apostate magic and refuse. You, however, are much more tolerant of my kind." Morrigan brushed aside a stray black bang from her face as she smiled at Aedan. "I am thankful for that."

With a smile like that, Aedan couldn't find it in himself to say no: the man groaned. "I'll get the book, don't worry. Although, if you wanted this book that badly, you didn't have to be all flirty for the past few weeks. I am a reasonable individual."

"I don't know what you're talking about Warden," replied Morrigan rather coyly, resting her head on his shoulder. Aedan rubbed his temples in irritation. "There- the sultry voice, you don't need to do that anymore, you've got what you wanted."

"Have I now, Warden?" mused the woman.

"Stop."

"Once you stop lecherously staring at my breasts," she joked. The smell of her hair lingered about him. Despite his protests, Aedan couldn't find it in himself to ask her to move.

* * *

><p>"<em>Around several days ago, a man and his associates stole several weapon and poison shipments from my trade routes. My underlings informed me that he used qunari explosives, and fought using dual blades. When they brought the bodies to me, I recognized his style of cuts." D flicked his finger casually whilst chewing on...something. "We used to work together, him and I. Until he betrayed our team. I thought him long ago having rotted in a dungeon." <em>

"_I thought the same of his associate, Victor," said Aedan." I helped apprehend him when he tried to kill King Maric- apparently he's been set free as well."_

"_Then it seems that I am not the only corrupt element in Denerim to be worried about, it seems Kylon," slithered the crime lord. The comment elicited a scowl from the officer. "Tell me something I don't know," muttered Kylon._

_A question formed in Aedan's mind; a connection that could exist: "You wouldn't happen to know an elf by the name of Teharel would you?" he asked. He wringed his hands together, waiting for D's response._

_D took a sharp breath in. An uncomfortable silence loomed."That little piece of shit. That's where he stored everything. Figures he'd put it right under my nose." His voice was almost like a snake hissing._

"_So you know him?" Aedan hadn't expected that. For all he knew, the elf had just stayed inside the Alienage. Then again, what he hadn't known had come to kill the two of them last night. _

"_Yes..." D's voice wavered before he asked quietly, "is he the dying friend you spoke of?" To Aedan, his voice seemed to have aged. The sharp tones and smirks had gone and been replaced by genuine concern. _

"_He is."_

_A single candle alit in the darkness. D stood, hooded and draped in a ragged leather cloak that obscured the entirety of his being. Even in the dim light, Aedan could see the countless daggers and swords strapped to the man's body. "Then I shall help you. Loyalty among comrades is something I still value, unlike Adair. I owe that much to that geezer of an elf."_

* * *

><p>"Ah, my friend, good to see you again!" Irving limped over to Aedan and gave him a hearty handshake. Despite it having only been a few weeks, Irving still looked ragged around the edges.<p>

"Everything okay Irving?" asked Aedan. Looking around at the tower, Aedan could tell it would take some more time till they were ready to march on the darkspawn.

"The events that transpired still weight heavy upon us like a veil. It shall take some time," said Irving, understanding the look in Aedan's eyes. "But don't worry. We'll be ready."

Aedan nodded. "Have the templars let you back into your quarters yet?"

"No, they're still performing clean up and maintenence. Construction workers have been recruited to help renovate the previously damaged structures. The templars are even collaborating with us to add magical wards in case this happens again."

"Collaborating?" His eyebrows raised. "That's good to hear. After all this, I thought the templars might get a little...constrictive."

"Uldred was a rogue mage, who felt suffocated by the circle. Gregoir, and all the other templars, know that pushing someone too far, especially a mage, can lead to drastic consequences. It can just be hard to remember that, with the threat of our magic ever looming. But by cooperating with them, and with understanding on both sides, I think that we can make the Circle a much more tolerant and understanding place." Beneath Gregoir's grand beard, Aedan saw a great smile that spread across the man's wrinkled face. For some reason, it warmed his heart to see a smile filled with such hope.

"That's a good vision to have." Aedan wistfully sighed and gazed at the mages, scurrying back and forth between the makeshift rooms on the first floor. "I've just been so focused on surviving each new fight that I'd almost forgotten that this Blight is going to end one day...and the world will keep turning."

The mages would have their peace. The people would have their lives. Despite that, Aedan wondered: what was left for him at the end of all this?

Shaking off the feeling of anxiety, Aedan turned back to the elderly mage. "Say, Irving, do you think they'd let me upstairs? I misplaced some of my equipment awhile back."

* * *

><p>"Book, bound and delivered." Aedan delicately pulled the book out of his knapsack. With a grin, he placed it in Morrigan's hand's. Her eyes alit with a rare expression of wonder and joy."Part of me thought you might not be able to find it, but...I am grateful. Thank you. I shall begin to decipher it's content immediately."<p>

"Alright Morrigan, good night then." Turning back towards camp, Aedan felt an electric jolt run through his hand as Morrigan unexpectedly grab it. Confused, he turned back around to meet her alluring gaze.

"I am surprised that you would not ask for a reward. Tis usually the custom- equivalent exchange, no?" she said whilst ever so slightly biting her lip. That voice again. So irritating, yet so alluring. He had to resist. "Consider it a gift," Aedan replied, prying his hand from her grasp.

She stepped in closer. "And what if I wish to reward you?"

"What if I don't want a reward?"

"As a noble, shouldn't you know that it is impolite to turn down a lady's gratitude."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not a noble anymore."

The witch pressed herself up against him. Her arms glided to his shoulder. "Well, Warden?" whispered Morrigan in his ear. Her cheek brushed against his as she drew back. While her eyes met his, he felt the warmth of her forehead press up against his. Only a hair's breadth apart, their lips hovered and burned. Only a while ago, he had been in a similar situation- and yet unlike then his heart pounded against his chest, threatening to burst forth, almost painfully.

He brought his hand to her face and pushed aside a stray lock of hair. Ever so slightly Morrigan leaned in, even closer. Still so close, still yet so far.

Wavering, he grasped her shoulders. The cold Fereldan air, coupled with her lack of practical clothing, had left her cold. He unconsciously pulled her body in closer to his. Her eyes fluttered shut. She let out one heated breath that lingered against his lips.

_Keep her at a distance. Don't. _

With all his willpower, he stepped backwards. Before Morrigan could react with her teasing, he leaned in and planted a single tender kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you in the morning." As he departed to his tent, Morrigan stood there wordlessly. She sighed once and planted herself against a nearby log. A sour expression spread across her lips as she watched Aedan's back go off into the distance.

Morrigan began to thumb through the pages of her books. Strange symbols, somewhat reminiscent, lay written. Whispers of ancient magic beckoned to Morrigan. She eagerly scanned the words, her lips mouthing the incantations. However, something lingered on her mind, on the edge of her lips. Her gaze hovered over the edge of the ancient tome and fell upon Aedan, playing with his dog. For awhile, it remained there, whilst her forehead faintly burned.

* * *

><p><em>The ongoing torrent of rain splattered down upon Aedan's cloak. By this point, his clothing was soaked. He regretted not actually wearing proper armor; he hadn't had a chance to procure proper equipment. He and Fergus shivered from their soaked clothing, whilst D and Kylon silently trudged on. Despite the cold, Aedan didn't mind. His mind was racing and the past few hours had been a blur. Every hour, every minute, every second that they delayed, death closed in on Teharel.<em>

"_What exactly is in this warehouse?" asked Aedan, who could take the silence no longer. Teharel had mentioned something- "when you see what's in there, don't think any less of me". The words had lingered on in Aedan's mind. Any thread of information might be the key to capturing Adair._

"_According to my underlings, paintings and other valuable works of art that I've collected over the years. According to your information, however, Teharel must have hid records of some kind in there. He must have known I'd run good security on that warehouse." _

"_Records that Adair is willing to kill for apparently. Do you have any idea what's on these records?" _

_The crime lord hesitated for several seconds, before relenting."Teharel seemed to trust you enough with the information of this warehouse," he sighed, "so perhaps he would have wanted you to know the truth about our little group."_

"_Shortly after Maric had united Fereldan and freed us from Orlais, the country was in a developmental phase. Arlings were being divied, debts were to be repaid, and alliances to be forged in blood. Not everyone agreed with Maric though."_

"_In war time, it's so easy to unite beneath that one flag to stand together strong. But when the dust settles, when peace has come, thats when the true snakes and vultures come out to make their claims. Nobles squabbling over territories, dissenters threatening to pull away, and other sorts of problems. Diplomacy can only go so far. Sometimes, you need someone to go do the dirty work. So they hired a cladestine squad of criminals, mercs, and other lowlifes to do it."_

_Is this what Teharel had been talking about? thought Aedan. "You were assassins?"_

_D shrugged. "Please. The government has the army and knights for things like that. Or the Crows. We were whatever was needed of us. We burned villages. Tortured innocents for information. Covered up certain aspects of the government. We had a singular focus: the advancement of the kingdom." The casual tone in which D spoke chilled Aedan to his bones. To be able to talk about slaughtering an entire village so casually: Aedan hope he would never reach that point. Was this the kind of man it took to be a crime lord? Even worse, could Teharel actually be this kind of man?_

_Unnerved, Fergus struggled to ask, "Was Maric the one who sanctioned this?"_

"_Of course not. He was the symbol of hope for this country; he had to remain untainted and pure. But there were those who knew work had to be done. To this day, I don't know who they were. They acted through intermediaries and proxies. All I know for sure is that had influence. We needed weapons: we got the finest blacksmithing possible. We needed identities to get into a banquet: fully furnished disguises and established identities."_

_D stifled a grim laugh. Aedan looked at him curiously. Beneath his hood and mask, he couldn't tell the man's expression._

"_And that was the beauty of it. Even if you went outside and tried to tell this story, even with the evidence in this warehouse, no one would ever believe you. There are no paper trails that lead back to the throne, only unsigned letters and the words of murderers." __Chuckling, D scratched his chin in thought. "I wonder- it hasn't been long since the death of Maric. The country is in turmoil once again. I doubt that those who gathered our little band of brothers are sitting idly by whilst they can manipulate things in their favor. I've profited quite abit so far- I can only imagine that they are taking action as well."_

"_Perhaps they are the ones who arranged for the release of Adair and Victor," mused Aedan. "You said they had a lot of influence."_

"_I doubt they would release the man who tried so very hard to kill their precious king. As for Adair, I'm not sure he would ever work for them again. No, he probably has something else planned entirely."_

_The buildings had begun to grow closer and closer together, and the roads filled with grime and rain. D signaled the group into a darkened alleyway. _

"_This better not be a trap," growled Kylon. He shifted and turned back and forth, his eyes looking for any sign of ambush. Despite D's earlier promises, Aedan didn't blame Kylon for his weariness. There was something cold about the man's demeanor, like he wouldn't bat an eye to kill all of them._

"_Do you plan to kill him?" asked D quietly._

"_What? I-" Aedan stuttered as he looked down, "we need to capture him to get the poison." The question had come out of nowhere. Even worse, Aedan had just made such a weak excuse. No doubt they could take the poison off of Adair's body. D snarled and spat on the ground. _

"_That indecisiveness will get you and others killed. Imagine- if you had simply gutted that Victor fellow, he wouldn't be alive to cause trouble for you now. Perhaps you could have managed to save Teharel."_

"_I didn't- and I don't- have the right," stated Aedan. He looked straight at the man, who still had the back of his head towards him. "That's for the courts of Ferelden to decide. When we find Ada-"_

_For the first time that evening, D whipped around to face him. "You'll what? Bat at him with your little sword? Kick him a bit?" Beneath the hood, Aedan could make out the face of a man with deep set eyes, tired and filled with darkness. Looking down upon Aedan, D laughed with putrid scorn. Aedan's face burned, whilst Fergus nervously thumbed his sword. "Even if you let Kylon bring him in, then he will simply be released again, no doubt by those within the Fereldan government."_

"_He is stronger than you. He is faster than you. He is more experienced than you. What the hell makes you think that you can kill him, let alone manage to capture him?" _

_The man's face contorted into a sinister smile. _

"_What hope do you have?"_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

_Sorry about the long delay AGAIN. Will try to update on a more regular schedule, but no guarantees. Thanks for all the review and follows. The next chapter will definitely come sooner!_

_One last note: one review posted that Maric died before Alistair was born: this is false, according to canon. According to the wiki, Maric is lost at sea in 9:25 Dragon, which is approximately when the flashback events of Part I and most of the flashback events of Part 2 occur. The current events of the flashback events take place around 9:26, as Teharel had trained Aedan for about a year. In relation to the Origins storyline, the Battle of Ostagar occurs 9:30 Dragon._


	23. Plan

**Part 3: Hope**

_Chapter 23: Plan_

"Alistair, you've been fidgeting for awhile."

The templar jumped a little in surprise- Aedan's statement startled him. His fellow warden stared at him while Alistair mustered up his courage. Alistair would never say it, but it seemed that Aedan was wearier as of late. He had a blank stare on his face that seemed inhuman. Such a look made him more imposing. Day by day, Aedan seemed change a bit. He would laugh more and interact with his team more and more. At the same time, he grew more distant. Closer, yet further. Sometimes Alistair would catch him on guard duty, just coldly staring into the fire.

"It is quite annoying," muttered Sten, interrupting Alistair's train of thought. After giving the cold qunari a death glare, Alistair cleared his throat. "I need to tell you something." A nervous tick arouse in his voice.

"Alright, shoot."

Alistair closed his eyes and began muttering to himself. Fists clenched, he muttered his speech silently in preparation. Zevran coughed rather loudly, interrupting Alistair's concentration. The templar glared once at the elf, before turning back to Aedan.

It took a few more moments for Alistair to gather himself. Aedan had never seen the man so strung up: he was usually lighthearted and tried his best to put a smile on. With all the death and destruction around them, Aedan always appreciated Alistair's efforts. Yet now, Alistair brow furrowed and a slight frown replaced his usual grin. Aedan owed his fellow a warden an ear.

"So, remember how I mentioned the Arl raised me? Well...theres a reason for that. I was a bastard, you see-"He ticked his teeth and hesitated before stating, "Well, my father...is King Maric." Eyes clenched, he let the statement simmer before prying open one eye to see Aedan's reaction.

However, the young man had been busy trying to get his dog under control. Gregory scampered about and Aedan tried to get the dog to stop fidgeting about. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My father is King Maric."

Aedan blinked. The confession took awhile to process in his head. Alistair feared the worst and cringed.

A chuckle rose from Aedan. Then another. "Wait...you're THE bastard?" The man shook his head, muttering with a smile, "Son of a bitch."

Scratching his head in confusion, Alistair muttered,"I've certainly never gotten that reaction before. Is there something on my nose? Or is the lack of credibility to my story?" The templar scratched the tip of his nose just to check.

"My friend, it seems the world is a very small place, isn't it?"

"What?" Alistair head drooped to the side in confusion.

"Nothing, nothing. Anyways, I'm guessing Duncan and Loghain both knew about this."

"Yes, it may have been the reason that he sent you and I to light the tower...to keep me safe."

Teeth ground against teeth as Aedan mulled over this info. "Probably why Loghain wants us apprehended so badly; not only do we know the truth about Ostagar, but you're the one legitimate threat to Anora's claim to the throne."

"Yes, well, don't be trying to put me on the throne quite so soon. I am still a bastard."

"Royal bastard though. Has a sort of ring to it."

"Huh. Never thought of it that way." Alistair stared down Aedan again. "Is that what you were laughing about?"

A distant expression fell across Aedan's face. He stared towards the clouds, and perhaps beyond. Turning back, he gave Alistair a knowing smile.

"Just a story from the past. It's a long one, I'll tell it to you eventually. It's only slightly relevant." Aedan could tell it had taken a lot for Alistair to speak up and share this. Sweat dripped down the templar's forehead despite the cool wind. Even still, the templar tugged on his own ear, nervous as could be.

"Relax buddy, I'm not going to start bowing down to you and kissing your ass to get in your good graces."

"Really, you're okay with this- this I'm sort of royalty thing? You're not going to treat me differently?"

_Perhaps, I should tell him_, thought Aedan, _that I used to rub shoulders with royalty. That I used to be a noble. Maybe that would put him at ease, that he was among brethren._

Despite his thoughts, Aedan simply said, "The way I see it, if I ever actually ever need you to do something, I just need to find a cheese platter or something. We're both just Wardens now anyhow."

_It's better this way. We both need to leave behind that sort of past._

The smile returned to Alistair's face. "You know me too well," he chortled. Aedan slapped the templar on his back and gave him a low chuckle.

* * *

><p><em>Dust lingered in the air. Antique gold and ancient wood filled the shelves of the warehouse. Aedan marveled at some of the pieces stored in here: even his family didn't have such wonders.<em>

_Getting inside without D, as Aedan had learned, would have been impossible. Several armed guards had surrounded the area, and a layer of several locked doors with different keys closed off the entrance. This made it even more impressive that Teharel was somehow able to break in and store his belongings here._

"_Impressive, is it not?" Aedan turned to see a glint of a smile beneath D's hood. It was a rare showing of pride from the elusive man. _

"_All made on illegal activities." Kylon trailed right behind D, his eyes square on the man's hands._

_With a wave of his hand, the man scoffed. "I care not for your petty laws. A man will make and spend his living however he so pleases." _

_Kylon's scowl echoed through the rather large basement. "What is it they call you? The dealer of death. Is that why they call you D?"_

"_While I do rather like that nickname, D comes from something else." The expression on the man's face sent a shiver down Aedan's spine; some sinister mixture of a grin and distant eyes. "Pray to your Maker that you don't ever find out," chuckled the man. Throwing his hands up in defeat, Kylon relented from his badgering. Even he knew when to stop pushing the law._

"_What's the point then, in having all these fine goods if nobody else can see them? They just collect dust." Fergus traced his finger along a porcelain statue. The dust coated his finger, and he wiped it off against the wall gingerly._

"_Because I can. Is there no reason not to do as I please?"_

_With a more curious tone, Kylon asked,"Is that why you're helping us? Because it pleases you?"_

"_If you're trying to analyze me, go right ahead. I'm a simple man, just like any other. If it agrees with my insides, then I do it," he laughed. "I guess the more romantic prose writers would say something like 'Follow your heart'. But the heart's just a muscle, pumping blood through your system. I've stabbed several men there, and I certainly wasn't aiming for their compassion."_

_D picked up the piece that Fergus had been looking at and tossed it about in his hand. With a sinister glance at Fergus, D threw the statue to the ground. It shattered, and it's pieces slid across the floor of the warehouse. Fergus's face froze up in shock. _

"_Every man lives by a code, whether he wants to admit it or not. while mine is certainly more flexible than most, helping Teharel falls under what one might call my conscience." _

_Aedan had to wonder what went on in that man's head._

* * *

><p>Walking through the village reminded him of Lothering. The anxiety in the air. The heavy veil of fear weighing down on the villagers whilst they went about their daily business. In the center of town, the local militia had begun setting up for something. There had been mentions of undead roaming the area. A few months ago, Aedan would have dismissed something like that as not real. After all he had seen now, undead seemed like the least of his worries.<p>

Over by the docks, several bodies lay motionless in wooden boats. Several remained unfinished. Aedan noted that multiple bodies could have fit into one boat, however, each individual held only one body, perhaps out of respect.

A man with empty looking eyes stood over the dead. Flickering in his hand, the flame of the torch seemed the only light in a rather bleak atmosphere. One by one, he lit the bodies without flinching. The boats bobbed in the water as the torch bearer pushed them in and down the river.

The doors of the Chantry creaked upon. The whispers of people beckoned their entrance. Desperate eyes gazed upon them as the group marched down the center.

_What do I look like to them?_ wondered Aedan. He peered down at his mercenary boots, which clanked against the ground. It clashed strangely with his templar gloves and shoulders, and the standard army chest and leggings. Even to him, it was strange mix, that seemed like he had walked into a trash pile.

Then again, they can't think of me any stranger than Morrigan. Aedan peered over at her, and briefly caught her gaze. Avoiding eye contact, he pretended to be looking around the chantry. A knowing smile fell across the witch's face. Aedan grumbled at that familiar sight. The witch was having her way again.

A sturdier man approached him from a group of Chantry sisters. The clothing of a noble, yet dirtied with blood and soil, seemed unfitting for him. Yet Aedan knew who he was: Bann Teagan, the brother Arl Eamon. "Are you the Grey Warden's that people have been talking about?" the red-haired man breathed. Aedan noted a certain weariness in his voice. "Is that-"

Teagan's face lit with joy as he clasped Alistair in a hug. "You made it out of Ostagar, thank the Maker!"

"Aedan, this is my uncle, Bann Teagan."

"So, you two are the Grey Wardens they've been talking about.

"I'm sorry, Grey Wardens the people have been talking about?" inquired Leliana.

"They say you cleared the entire mage tower of demons- saved both the mages and templars from utter destruction. You...you can help us right?" He clasped Alistair by the arms and faced towards Aedan. Desperation filled his eyes. Both Wardens paused in shock. With a sudden realization of how he appeared, Bann Teagan released Alistair and bowed in apology.

"I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. I am Bann Teagan, brother to Arl Eamon."

As Aedan shook the man's hand, he decided not to tell Teagan he recognized him from the Landsmeet. Always following behind his brother, Eamon, helping to maintain order throughout the meetings. Although he had never spoken to the man, he had always viewed him as a kindred spirit: the younger brother, destined to always hold second-best to his older brother.

"Nice to meet you Teagan," grunted Aedan. He hoped the man wouldn't recognize him. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about his family. Yet a glint of recognition sparked in Teagan's eyes. He looked at Aedan and did a slight turn of his head, pondering his face.

"I'm sorry, but you seem so familiar," frowned Teagan, "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Instinct caused Aedan to pause for a split second. The man stated, "I'm nobody. Just a Grey Warden. Just call me by my title." To this, Sten gave a unnoticed nod of approval.

"Then, Warden, I need to ask you for your help. You're the only one that can save this village. I've been trying to do it all on my own, but I am no military man."

"I've heard the rumors. Undead." Aedan grimaced. Now, amongst demons and darkspawn, there was undead to contend with.

"Then, you've come to help the village?"

In truth, Aedan had just hoped that the rumors were just that. With Arl Eamon sick, an undead infestation complicated the situation. Time was of the essence. They had to get inside the castle as quickly as possible. Perhaps the best way to do that would be the simplest: charge in immeadiatly. Nevertheless, glancing once over the people, Aedan couldn't bring himself to do something so cruel as abandon these families.

"That's not why we're here, but we'll help you nevertheless."

"Thank the Maker. Murdock, the mayor of redcliffe, is leading the militia- or what's left of it anyways. He'll direct you to where you'll be needed most. I shall stay here and help the wounded for now."

Once the Bann had wandered off, Morrigan swung around at him. "Is this really the time to be saving villages? Are we not here for this Teagan you speak of?"

"If we clear the undead, it'll be far easier for us to get into the castle."

"T'would be quite easy if I were to simply burn a path through." The casual way she spoke was as though she spoke of animals or livestock. Or even better, we leave the villagers and use them as ba-"

Like a whirlwind, Aedan whipped around to face Morrigan. That agonizing stare on his eyes, filled with an incomprehensible determination, shot right through her. Her fingers trembled for a bit. She dared not to finish her last word.

"We are not leaving them. Understood?" he growled. Aedan's gaze shot towards the others. Nobody in the group spoke- nothing needed to be said.

While the other had found rather constructive uses of their time, Morrigan had not yet found something to help with. Or rather, she had not yet found anybody she wanted to help. She could not stand the constant prayers of the Chantry, in which Leliana and Wynne tended to the wounded. Morrigan's talents would have been best utilized there, but she refused to stay in that accursed building longer than she needed to. Sten and Alistair had gone to work helping the militia and building barricades, while Zevran helped to maintain the weapons.

None of those people, interested her as greatly as the one she currently sought out. Aedan had gone to peruse the village storehouse for potential supplies.

To her delight, she opened the storehouse door to see a rather humorous scene. Aedan struggled to reach his back armor straps. The man turned in place, like a dog chasing his own tail. Once Aedan noticed her, he made an embarrassed grumble at his predicament. Morrigan covered her mouth and stifled a laugh.

"You mind?" Aedan twisted his head around and beckoned to his armor straps. Looking around in the village, Aedan had found some old knight's armor in the storehouse. It fit better than the makeshift mixture he had been wearing earlier. Strapping on the armor had irked him to no end, as the straps and buckles were just out of grasp. However, as he had just discovered, taking it off was even more of a hassle.

The witch sighed and slapped his hand away from the straps. "I'll do it."

While she undid the straps, Aedan mumbled under his breath, "Sorry...if I was a bit too harsh earlier."

"Then you shall have to repay me for that later."

Silence again. After she had finished the first strap, Morrigan asked. "Why are you fighting for them?" Her voice held no contempt or scorn, but instead curiosity. This time, Aedan responded more gently.

"It can't be that foreign a concept to you...concern for your fellow people?"

"In the Wilds, the weak die. The strong live. That is the natural way of things. Those without power fall to the natural order of things. That is what my mother and the wilds taught me."

"Why are you helping us then Morrigan?"

"If my mother fears the Blight, then I would be a fool not to fear it as well. Defeating the archdemon will allow me to go about in peace."

With one last tug, Aedan's chest plate fell to the ground. The man sighed in relief. _Damn armor doesn't breath very well_, he thought.

"But this- this isn't even the Blight. This isn't your job. You're a Grey Warden, not a slayer of undead."

"Not too long ago, I wasn't the slayer of anything." Aedan held the chest plate in his hand. His warped reflection stared back at him. "'Warden' is my duty, not my ideals. Your mother taught you things. So did mine," stated Aedan, "Protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"Tis no point." The witch crossed her arms and gazed out the window at the villagers. They scampered about in panic. "Like ants," she whispered.

Convincing Morrigan would be hard; Aedan could tell. He shrugged- perhaps another day she'd understand."I guess at the end of the day, I just do what agrees with my insides."

"In that case, Alistair's cooking is morally reprehensible?" snickered Morrigan.

"Hadn't thought of it that way, but certainly,' chuckled Aedan, "I wouldn't even feed that to my worst enemy."

Sitting there and sharing a laugh, Morrigan glanced out the window. The sun was still up, though perhaps a few hours from setting. The crate she sat on creaked as she leaned backwards."You know Aedan, now might be a good time to pay me back for that...harshness earlier." She pursed her lips together and gave him a sultry look.

Aedan's brow furrowed in confusion for the briefest of moments, before he did a little jump back in realization. "I think not." With his hands raised before him, he did a nervous little laugh. Morrigan sighed and pulled him forward by his shirt.

"Come now, no doubt you've had your fair share of women, so I know you are not simply a inexperienced manchild."

"You know this? You have some sort of magic witch's orb or something?"

"Tis a women's intuition." Staring right at him, Morrigan would not relent until Aedan answered. Those eyes of hers- those piercing, yellowish eyes, were slightly furrowed and had a tinge of anger to them. The two stared at each other for several seconds.

"How do I put it," Aedan stuttered, "You're...different. I travel with you. We fight together. Do you get what I'm saying?" It was hard, not being nervous around Morrigan. Either completely avoiding the point, or diving in headfirst.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes and tilted her head sideways. "Is this some sort of noble society thing? Some sort of ritualistic courting thing?"

"What? No, don't be ridiculous."

"I don't think I'm the one being ridiculous here," pouted Morrigan, who tugged playfully on Aedan's shirt. Aedan slapped her hand away from his shirt, causing her to pout again. She brushed aside a stray lock of her hair and crossed her legs. Morrigan's face turned away, as though to simulate anger, though she glanced over every few seconds.

"It's common sense," Aedan lectured, "Don't get involved where you work. You have to separate emotions and your work. Especially for what we're doing- we could get killed."

To Aedan's surprise, the woman scoffed at his rather serious statement. She peered at him rather bored."Is that what you're worried about Warden? That you'll fall head over heels for me and be reduced to a blubbering fool?" She covered her mouth and breathed a condescending laugh. Smiling, she got up and drew near.

"I do not desire such trivial things as love. Tis only a story told to naive childrens. Frivolous tales sung by people like Leliana." Her words had a decisive feel to them, as though she spoke of fact and not opinion. Was she looking down on him like the others? Or just trying to teach him? Aedan could never tell.

Cautiously, Aedan proceeded."Then what exactly is it that you desire Morrigan?"

"Is it so hard to tell? A man-"

Biting her lip ever so gently, Morrigan traced her finger down his shirt. This time Aedan didn't slap it away.

"-and a woma-"

"Warden, there you are-"

Aedan stumbled backwards and began gathering up his armor. Zevran gave a snake-like smile at the scene before him. He rarely got to see the warden so flustered."My my warden, truly the wicked never rest." He cackled at his joke and twirled the dagger in his hands. "I was wondered that the undead had attacked you, but it appears you're wrangling much bigger game."

"Can it," grunted Aedan, who hastily exited the hut and marched off towards the militia gathering.

As she passed by, Morrigan gave Zevran a death stare. His smile grew. She growled back in anger, like a wolf deprived of its prey.

Having made his hasty exit, Aedan found the rest of the militia, along with Sten and Alistair, waiting.

"So, here's the layout of the village," said Alistair, who handed Aedan a ragged map covered in food stains. No doubt mayor Murdock had left in buried beneath his belongings on his desk before this entire debaucle. Now, however, that same Mayor stood decked in armor and weapons. He and the rest of the village stood scattered about the table.

Aedan unfurled the map and pinned it down. He took a few moments to scan the layout. His fingers traced the paths between buildings, and he silently mouthed strategies in thought. In truth, Aedan wasn't putting too much thought into it; he was as nervous as the other men. Part of keeping their hopes up was making it seem like he had some idea what he was doing. He remembered how Loghain had looked that day at Ostagar, laying out the plans at the war summit.

_Did Loghain feel this way too? The same fear and anxiety? _

Aedan grimaced.

_Do any of us have any idea what we're doing?_

"Based on your reports, the undead mainly rise from the waters and the castle. We need to set up choke points here and here. You mentioned they seemed to be able to sense where people where at. Most likely they'll gather towards the church, where we'll need to have the heaviest forces." As he made his observations, Aedan directed the militia's attentions to the areas on the map.

"Shouldn't we be drawing the the undead away from the chantry- separate squads to lure the undead from where they spawn?" asked Murdock.

"No, we have little enough manpower as it is. We need to consolidate our strength into one area where we can hope to overpower them."

"What if there's fewer this time? Maybe we'll all make it through the night-"

Aedan slapped his hands down on the table. They thudded softly; not enough to scare the men, but enough to startle them. "And what? Just rush in and get ourselves killed?"

This time, from the bottom of his soul, Aedan gazed at each and everyone of the militia men, and declared, "I won't bet the lives of this village on what if's or maybes. We need a plan."

* * *

><p><em>"We need a plan Aedan." Fergus had grown tired of the silence between him and his brother. The younger Cousland had been mulled over in thought in a corner of the warehouse, whilst Kylon and D searched for the documents.<em>

_"I know."_

_Exasperated, Fergus turned to his brother. "Well?"_

_Aedan stayed silent._

_Fergus rubbed his eye in frustration. "Brother, you're going to get yourself killed."_

_"What the hell am I supposed to do. D is right. I can't beat Adair," he seethed under his breath._

_His fist slammed against the wall. Delicate artifacts shook on their shelves. His heart tightened as he imagined Adair's sword running through it. In the heat of the moment, it was so easy to to jump in and be brave. Now that he had time to rationalize, Aedan doubted his earlier bravado. Adair had properly trounced him. Only the timely arrival of the guards had kept him from being killed._

_"I'm not a damn warrior; I'm just a kid playing with his sword. I've played at war, never fought in it." His back thudded against the wall. Aedan slid down into a seated position, staring out into the vastness of the warehouse. "Maker, I'm so stupid. Why the hell did I tell Hijaya I could do this; I can't do this."_

_For awhile, Aedan sat there, silent. Fergus stood above, watching Aedan's concerned face. He too, sat down against the wall right next to his little brother. Waiting till he collected his thoughts, Fergus nudged his brother, and spoke:_

_"Do you remember when Oren was born?"_

_The memory of his little nephew brought a smile to Aedan's face. He hadn't seen him in awhile. "Yeah, that little bundle of trouble," laughed Aedan, wiping away his tears. "I've had to clean up so many of that little monster's messes."_

"_I never told anybody else, but Oriana and I had been trying for...quite some time to have a child. We were thinking that one of us might have been infertile. Everytime Mother and Father joked about us not having kids yet- we had to smile and lie."_

_Aedan faced his brother. "Fergus-"_

"_It's okay. You didn't know. You couldn't have done anything." Fergus looked up. The sound of the rain had stopped._

"_But there never came a point that I stopped believing that it would happen."_

"_Never?" asked Aedan._

"_I doubted myself sometimes, yes, but deep down, I always kept in mind that image of our family: Oriana holding a baby in her arms, everyone cooing around it, you getting jealous over the lack of atten-" Fergus keeled over from Aedan's fierce elbow to the gut._

"_I did not." The young man's face burned. He didn't like to be reminded of that time of his life._

"_You most certainly did," chuckled his brother. A slight blush on his cheeks, Aedan grumbled lowly._

"_That hope kept me- both of us- going. And every day since Oren was born, I'm glad I never lost hope." He draped his arm around his brother's shoulder, and pointed his other hand forward. _

"_When you lose hope, you've already lost. Despite how painful it may be Aedan, you have to picture tomorrow- your tomorrow, the one where Teharel lives."_

_Tomorrow, thought Aedan. He closed his eyes. All he could see was the dark of his eyelids. In his mind's eye, all he could see was the image of Adair crushing Teharel's leg. The sickening crunch of bones. _

_Fergus could feel his brother shiver underneath his arm. Smiling, he ruffled his brother's messy hair. "Brother, you'll make it through this. Both you and Teharel. I promise." In the distance, Fergus noticed something in the direction of his outstretched hand, glimmering in the warehouse. A thought shot through his mind._

_Those reassuring words eased a bit of Aedan's pain. Still, a shroud of doubt and unease still blanketed his heart. "I can't see it Fergus. I just can't," Aedan sighed._

_Fergus almost didn't hear those words of Aedan. They were quiet, yes, but the thoughts running through his mind overpowered everything else. Fergus gave Aedan a wild grin._

"_Well Aedan, I've got enough hope for us both. I'll get you through this little brother." Fergus stood up and looked down upon his brother. Gazing upwards, Aedan felt as though he brother towered over him in height. _

"_Because I have a plan."_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Notes<em>**

_And we're back! Sorry it's been so long; holiday season, extra work piling up, its just a been a crazy couple of weeks. I'm not as busy anymore, and don't have as much writer's block, so I'm hoping to generate a bit of backlog in the meantime and update a lot sooner (perhaps within the week sooner?)_

_Thanks for the reviews and for following me everyone, and I hope you've enjoyed/are enjoying the holiday season!_


	24. Undead

**Part 3: Hope**

_Chapter 24: Undead_

"We set up the burning oil at chokepoints here, here, and here."

"Meanwhile, we consolidate almost all the barricades in front of the chantry, with three openings in order to create choke points."

"If we simply wall ourselves in, then the undead will simply claw at the barricades and break in down in a matter of minutes. When they see the opening, they'll concentrate their efforts on the prey in front of their eyes. Thus, they'll all rush through the same places, allowing us to better concentrate and coordinate our efforts. The barricade will hold longer as well."

It took awhile, but Aedan managed to drill the plan into the villager's heads and convince them of it's merit. He didn't blame their first instinct of wanting to simply wall away the undead and shoot at them. While the rest of the men continued training with Zevran and Sten, Aedan decided to visit the Chantry.

"Wynne, how are the wounded doing?" Aedan asked as he strode up to her.

It seemed the most heavily wounded gathered around her. Some had their limbs amputated. Looking at one man's amputated leg gave Aedan a sour feeling. Wynne turned away from the wounded to answer him."They will live. Those who survived were in bad shape, but I managed to fix them up as best I could."

He couldn't help but smile at that news. One day he'd have to tell Wynne how grateful he was for her, and every other mage's, healing magic. However, he had something else on his mind.

"Also, I wanted your opinion on something else," he asked with a serious tone, glancing around to see if anyone was listening in.

Wynne nodded; she had been expecting this conversation."The undead." She finished her bandaging of one man and beckoned Aedan over to a quieter corner of the Chantry. Frightening the innocents with such talk of magic would do no good here. Wynne could tell Aedan had thought the same thing when looking for eavesdroppers; two mages and an unexplained undead problem were bound to be linked together by the uninformed.

"Typically, undead occurs when a demon attempts to possess a dead body. It certainly not as powerful as the abominations that we faced in terms of magical ability. In terms of strength however, it is comparable."

"How would one cause this?"

"Most likely it is the machinations of a demon who has gotten a foothold in this area."

"Could a mage have summoned them?"

The question took Wynne by surprise. She gave Aedan a confused look."What makes you say that?"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm not trying to be intolerant or anything, its just...the timing is weird."

"Weird?"

"I'll explain. We found an elf in the bar, hired by Loghain to watch the Arl's condition. From before he got sick. It took awhile to coax the information out of him, but he produced a letter with Loghain's seal."

"Are you saying that Loghain poisoned the Arl?"

"Knowing what we know about his true character, it isn't a far off conclusion. More importantly, something the elf said was off. After Arl Eamon fell ill, the undead arrived a few weeks later. It can't just be a coincidence."

"It isn't possible for Loghain to have summoned undead, if that's what you're thinking." Wynne's eyes narrowed in thought "...unless he had some apostate do it."

"He wouldn't do that. It doesn't make sense. Why would Loghain poison the Arl, and not kill him?"

"What do you mean?"

"A man like Loghain, and with his contacts, knows their poisons. If he had wanted, the Arl could have been dead the minute he ate whatever the assassin slipped the poison into. In fact, a heart attack sounds far more likely than a prolonged sudden illness."

"But it took weeks...we had time to go to the Mage Tower and Denerim, and Arl Eamon still didn't die. Even know, he's inside the castle with a good possibility of being alive."

"Perhaps...Loghain never intended to kill the Arl. Simply to get him out of the way for the time being."

It made sense. The king's army and the Grey Warden's had to die, in order to cover up his betrayal. Arl Eamon, however, was a different case. Although Aedan had never seen the two quite agree at the landsmeet, they had always respected each other and their decisions. Loghain just needed Eamon out the way, not dead.

The more Aedan tried to understand Loghain, the more conflicted he felt. From a logical standpoint, the man's decisions made sense. Yet their execution was brutal and immoral.

But summoning undead didn't fit Loghain's standards. He was a man of swords and grit, not magic and occult. It was connected, but whatever was behind the undead wasn't Loghain.

"If Loghain isn't the cause, perhaps whoever is behind this is in the castle," mused Aedan quietly. He looked over at the wounded who still needed help. Perhaps his thoughts could wait. "Nevertheless, I should be worrying about the current situation first." He and Wynne walked back towards the temporary infirmary.

Kneeling over one delirious man, Wynne sighed and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth., "I pray to the Maker that everyone will be able to make it through tonight."

Smiling, Wynne handed him a roll of bandages. "But somehow I think you'll be enough."

* * *

><p>"Would you like to say something to the militia? They could really use a pep talk from an honest to god Grey Warden." Murdock's request was a bit gruff; it took much humility for the Mayor and leader of the militia to ask someone else to lead his men. He had looked away a bit when he asked, and Aedan could have sworn he heard the man grumble. Yet he had still come.<p>

A small platform stood near the front of the Chantry, typically for sermons or the Chanters. Aedan silently acknowledged Murdock's request and strode towards the platform.

"Men! The Warden has something to say!"

Why, all of a sudden, did his words have more weight? A little over two and a half months ago he had departed on this journey. He had gathered no fame, no riches, and no grand army.

_And yet here I am. The Warden. No origin to speak of, I haven't been in battle with these men, and he _

_Perhaps the name is sometimes more important than the actual person._

The sounds of Flemeth's laughter echoed in his ears as he remembered her joke about his faux title. If the Hero of River Dane had come onto this platform, would the people be cheering as well? Or their youthful King Cailan?

He tried to think back as he stood amongst the army at Ostagar. How he felt hearing Cailan's speech on glory and remembrance.

_Glory or remembrance. That's not what these men want. That's not what any of us at Ostagar wanted. These men just want to live another day with their families. _

"Men," started Aedan as he stood atop the platform. His words left him. His tongue went dry. Trying to keep his composure, Aedan took a deep breath.

"You've seen a lot these past few days. Been through more than you should have. And I know, there's this knawing feeling inside of you, telling you that you can't do this."

"You've lost people." A little quieter, Aedan muttered, "We've all lost people."

Clenching his fist, Aedan held it in front of him. He squeezed so hard it trembled.

"But we cannot let despair dull our senses, soften our blows, or temper our spirit!" he yelled. Putting his feelings into words was difficult, and yet somehow it flowed out. Aedan recalled the passion with which Cailan had spoken; however misplaced, it still came from the heart.

"What are these undead? They're not even human, they're demonic! Legends and rumor say that that's what makes them so powerful but they're wrong my friends."

"They are flesh and bone just like us. But what drives them? Nothing but primal instinct and the urge to kill."

"It's because we feel, because we are human, that we can fight more than just ourselves and our survival. Behind our blades is not simple strength of our muscles, but strength of our will. Of our spirit! Of our hope!"

His finger thrust towards the chantry. Their eyes followed, looking over at the barricaded door.

"Every time you swing your blade at these monsters, remember that tonight, we fight not only for us, but for their tomorrow."

The words simmered. The men looked at him with a sort of admiration and understanding. At the very least, Aedan had stirred something in their hearts. A spark to light a flame.

"Do not lose hope my friends, because that what sets apart the living and the dead. That is why we will win tonight, no matter what. They have nothing to lose when they fight."

"We have everything. So defend it."

_While you still can._

The last remnants of sunlight lingered in the form of subtle shadows. The men shuffled off into their positions. They lit the torches, one by one, illuminating.

Sword drawn, Aedan stood by the windmill. He leaned on his sword, watching sun's descent.

_At the very least, I shall do for you all what I couldn't that night._

* * *

><p>In the midst of battle, a strange thought occurred to Aedan.<p>

_Why do the undead wield weapons? Do they perhaps retain a bit of their humanity?_

Thoughts like these were thrown away as Aedan charged as decrepit hands clawed at him. He couldn't afford to view these skeletons as anything human. Hesitation would get the villagers killed.

He smashed an undead's head underneath his boot. A flinch of pain in his leg caused him to look down. There, the creature still clawed at his leg, despite it's wounds. Only one thing would work. Aedan slammed his sword down into the ground again and again, shattering the bones of the creature. As he battered it with blows, parts of it sunk into the the dirt.

"A rather impromptu burial," said Sten, before smashing aside two undead. What Sten lacked in grace, he made up for in pure, bone-crushing strength.

"So you do know how to make jokes." Aedan forced a chuckle. Any other time he'd badger the qunari some more, but in the midst of battle, his mind needed to be clear and focused. To his right, he noticed some men parrying for far too long with the undead.

"Men, throw the creatures back into the fire! We can't afford to waste our time fighting them one by one!"

With that, Aedan motioned to Sten. The man charged forward with his greatsword, catching the undead on the large surface like flies. He stopped before the raging fire, then swung the undead into the roaring flames. Their writhing hands reached towards the sky, before burning to ashes. Confident of the upper path's position, Aedan headed to the Chantry to help the rest of the men.

Right in front of the Chantry, the undead amassed. The men stood trembling at the entrance to the barricades. "Switch positions with me!" yelled Aedan as he sprinted down the hill. A rather nervous looking man nodded and scampered to the sidelines, leaving the entrance to the barricades open. A look of horror spread across the militia's faces at the exposed opening.

"Morrigan!"

"I know!" screamed the witch, who slammed her staff into the ground. Wind rushed against the undead and tossed them backwards. That opening bought Aedan enough time to roll into position. His shield slammed against another approaching skeleton as he finally reached the barricade. Stalwart, he raised his sword and pointed to the knock aside horde. "Fire!" he screamed.

Aedan had never felt happier to hear the twang of bow strings. Almost like the playing of the violin, that sound run through the night, followed by a barrage of arrows. Whilst Aedan had positioned the ground troops below, he assigned Leliana and other members of the militia to stay atop the roof.

Some arrows flew too far. Others missed their target's entirely. However, enough skeletons were lit aflame by the burning arrows to thin them out to a manageable number.

A burst of three arrows hit the three skeletons in front of Aedan. The flame spread from square in their forehead. Smiling, Aedan turned back and gave a nod to Leliana: it wasn't hard to tell her handiwork. The rogue gave a silent nod back and continued to draw more arrows.

Meanwhile, Aedan heard the clash of swords behind him. Alistair had taken the second chokepoint, and

The sound of wood breaking echoed through the night. The men went silent.

The barricades had been broken.

Aedan's glance darted from man to man. Their bodies trembled with panic, and the skeletons still approached.

"Oi!" shouted Aedan. He began to clang his sword against his shield. In a eerie fashion, most of the skeletons turned to the clanging noise, drawn to it like a beacon.

"Come and get me!" he bellowed from the bottom of his chest. Their legs clattered as the horde rushed towards him. Aedan's eyes closed. As he took a deep breath in, the cold dry air stung his nostrils. Clearing his mind, he listened to the sounds of the battle: the footsteps of the dead, the panting of the militia, and the clashing of swords. He remembered the feeling when he had been fighting the ogre, and then again with Uldred. That desperation. That strength.

His eyes shot open. A familiar sensation came over him- his blood boiled within his veins. He lunged at the skeletons headfirst. With his shield he smacked them backwards, giving him breathing room. His hand gripped his sword in a vice.

With inhuman strength, the sword smashed through the undead's a vicious arc.

_You want to take these men? These women? These children?_

With all his might, he swung again, and again, and again. The sword reverberated in his hand with each downing of an undead.

_Not a chance._

More and more skeletons rushed him. With even more fervor they slashed at him, egged on by Aedan's own fury. A primal roar erupted from deep within him. With everything he had, he kept trying to push the undead back. Slowly but surely, however, Aedan's feet began to slide backwards.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the men coming from the skeleton's side and flanking some of them. Alistair led the charge, picking off the skeletons the skeletons attracted by Aedan's display. With the skeletons concentrating on Aedan, the villagers didn't need to fear their blows.

One by one, whether by Aedan's sword or the militia, the last undead fell. The men looked around: no more seemed to be approaching. The sun's golden rays then peeked over the horizon. The battleground illuminated. Although shattered bones and broken bodies lay about, none of them were of the living.

Barely holding back his tears, Murdock shouted, "We're...we're alive! We did it men!"

The clamor of the militia intensified. Soon it became a deafening roar of triumph. Men bellowed from their hearts with joy and relief. Some were even crying. The chantry doors creaked open as those inside peeked out at the commotion.

Amongst all the chaos, Aedan tried to raise his fist and shout alongside them. All that came out was a slight groaning. His voice, hoarse from barking orders, couldn't be heard. He chuckled sheepishly as the men came to bury him in handshakes and hugs, despite being covered in sweat and blood.

* * *

><p>"Not a single man dead."<p>

Aedan sat behind the Chantry. He nibbled on a loaf of a bread one of the Sister's had given him. His stomach still felt queasy. Despite the joy of the villagers, only one night had been won. Perhaps that was why they celebrated so hard: this might be their only triumphant night. Perhaps they wanted to engrave that joy into their memories; store it away for the next battle.

Taking a place next to him, Alistair slouched against the wall. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"What?"

"There you were in the midst of battle, coordinating all those men into safer positions, while you took the more dangerous ones."

Aedan continued to look at his bread, talking in between bites. "Only makes senses. If chokepoints fall, then the entire unit is at risk."

"It wasn't just that. How do I put it...it felt like you were watching over all the men at the same time."

"Sometimes I wish I was more like you. More assertive, more of a leader."

"You know, when I used to live with the Arl, Lady Isolde would always push me around. Treat me like some second rate child. Coming back here, so close to the castle I grew up in..."

The templar shrugged and gave heavy sigh. "I don't know. It stirs up some of those feelings. Sometimes I feel like I can't do this job."

Glancing from his food, Aedan noticed a familiar expression. A expression of a man who had always been a junior or the second best. Despite having a place, he never knew whether or not he quite fit in. Downset eyes and a sad, uncertain smile.

Of people, Aedan knew what it was like to play second-best for a brother.

To Alistair's surprise, Aedan draped his arm over his shoulder and spoke. "Alistair. Don't worry about whether or not people listen to you, or whether or not you're right for this job. I know this: you were right there alongside me, protecting those men, as my fellow Warden."

"Maybe you're not assertive or not as much as a leader, but that doesn't make you any less of a person Alistair. You're just you. And there's no other person I'd have watching my back. We're in this fight together, you and I."

Grinning, Aedan took his fist and gave Alistair a friendly tap on the shoulder. His stomach growled and hissed once again; Aedan returned to finishing his meal, but not before silently tossing a bread roll to Alistair. The other warden managed to catch the roll, and stuffed most of it into his mouth. "Thanks," came a muffled voice through the bread.

* * *

><p><em>Trailing the group had been easy enough. D, for all his smokes and mirrors, made mistakes as well, the foremost being pride. To think that no one else had intimate information on his organization. To think that he had the best ways through the city.<em>

_Adair smirked knowingly. Pride would be not only D's downfall, but others' as well. Adair's previous hit and run operations on D's supply line had netted him several of D's workers. He found that anybody was willing to talk when persuaded with a jagged enough knife. _

_Perched atop a rooftop, Adair watched D and his companions enter into the guarded warehouse. _

_Two armed guards outside? There's probably more layers of security as they go deeper._

"_Boss, how much longer are we going to have to wait out in this god forsaken rain?"_

"_We wouldn't have to wait outside if you had just done your job right Victor."_

"_So I got spotted, big deal."_

"_Big deal. It's because of your incompetence that mess in the Alienage occured. Now the guard is looking for us, and more importantly, if they recognize who you are-"_

"_Relax, the only people who were just your elf friend and some noble kid. They won't know I'm the one who tried to kill the king."_

"_They told me that you were one of the best, and yet here you are, and you can't even do anything right."_

"_The king died anyways, so there's no problem."_

"_Really, what's the point of having someone like you along?"_

"_Hell if I know," muttered Victor, whose body lay brazenly across the rooftop, "I'm not the one who asked for this." His eyes shut and he let out a long yawn. A threatening growl came from Adair's direction. Sighing, Victor sat back up and continued to watch the scene below._

"_So, what's your plan on getting in? I doubt there's any other secret entrances."_

"_Sometimes Victor, stealth is the best option." Adair rifled underneath his own cloak for awhile, before pulling out a handful of explosive flasks. The insides sizzled ever so softly. _

"_Nows not that time."_

_Victor gave a malicious grin._

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_WHHHAAATTTTT IT DIDNT TAKE A WHOLE MONTH OR TWO FOR THE NEXT UPDATE_

_Anyways, yeah, with the new year I'm going to try and update a lot more. Hope you all enjoy._


	25. Resolve

**Part 3: Hope**

_Chapter 25: Resolve_

_Maker this woman is annoying. Honestly, _thought Aedan to himself.

Lady Isolde and Bann Teagan bickered outside the windmill. Much to everyone's shock and relief, her entire family, including Arl Eamon, lived. Now she asked the impossible: for Bann Teagan to go into the castle, alone, without any clue to the dangers within.

Although Aedan had been only a small child, he still remembered the controversy surrounding Eamon and his Orlesian wife. Even more damning is that she had been the daughter of the Orlesian governer of Redcliffe during the occupation. After the occupation, she decided to stay with Eamon out of love.

Whispers among the nobles contained nothing good. "She's only with him because he spared her life" or "She's a dirty Orlesian spy waiting for her brethren to come back."

Indeed, Loghain had never enjoyed the company of Isolde. To be fair, not many did, but Arl Eamon obviously adored her. Such slights from nobles led Isolde to stay behind in the estate most of the time. Even Aedan could not blame her for such a scornful attitude towards others, when all others always scorned her.

Still, her attitude didn't simplify Aedan's job. The former noble considered his strategy: the arlesse, a devoted family woman and relatively secluded due to scorn, would most likely respond well to a courteous attitude and positive comments directed towards her child, Connor, and her husband. Teagan had already wasted enough time trying to pry information out of this woman. Aedan would not.

The warden approached the pair and bowed slightly to Isolde.

"My Lady Isolde, I apologize if we seem to be intruding on your private family matter. I understand you and your family have gone through much; you have every right to suspicious of those from outside." He remembered that expression he put on for other nobles: calm, smiling, and devoid of all ill intent.

Aedan's unfamiliar courtesy threw Isolde off guard. "I too apologize for my rather brash introduction," said Isolde, avoiding eye contact. "We have been rather wary of outsiders ever since the incident..."

_There we go, keep talking._

"Is this incident in reference to perhaps the Arl being poisoned?"

"He...he has simply fallen ill. Nothing else!" shouted the Arlesse who took a step back.

_Damn, she seems to have gotten angry. Should trade some information to regain her trust._

"My lady, I may have information that pertains to this. I interrogated an elf who was hired to keep a watch over the Arl's condition...by Loghain. It concerns me greatly if you or your family were to be put at risk by even more of his treachery."

Isolde now turned directly at Aedan. Looking at her face, Aedan saw eyes red from crying.

"I...yes...perhaps we should speak in plainer terms. Thank you for revealing that to me. It clarifies some of a situation that is still beyond my understanding." She stopped wringing her hands, and finally made eye contact with Aedan. Alistair could only stare dumbfounded as Aedan charmed the woman who had spent ten years making his life a living hell.

'_Situation beyond her understanding.' Yet she dares not reveal what lays inside the castle. Why?_

Aedan needed to clarify indirectly."I, and Alistair here, are both Grey Wardens. We are trained to deal with such occult situations, through force-"

For the split second after he said that word, Isolde's face began to contort in fear. Aedan picked up on this, and continued with his planned statement.

"Or peacefully."

Her expression softened.

_Whoever, or whatever, is related to causing this, she doesn't want to be hurt. I doubt she'd have such concern for her maids or soldiers. Therefore, the most probable candidates are Connor or the Arl himself._

Isolde relented and explained what she understood: a mage had come and poisoned the Arl, then summoned the undead. Aedan believed the first part, yet the concern Isolde had shown made him suspicious as to the true perpetrator. How did the Arl or Connor fit in with the undead? Perhap the guilty mage now held them hostage. Whatever the case, Aedan doubted Isolde's further usefulness. She herself stated she did not truly understand the situation.

Aedan crossed his arms and gave her a traditional bow, indicating an offer of his service. The bow hid his darkened expression of deep thought.

"Warden, an aside." Teagan motioned him over to a shady part of the windmill. Whilst the two departed, Aedan let his eyes wander to Isolde: she trembled a little less, and her breathing had calmed. At least his courtesy did some good.

Once Teagan and Aedan were alone, the Bann began to speak. "I will comply with Isolde and go with her alone. I trust Isolde enough not to bring me to get killed. But, I know I cannot do this alone. There's a secret entrance in the windmill to the dungeons. I will be the distraction, while you come in and ambush whatever is in there."

_The distraction? _

"You're a brave man," said Aedan, "but be careful. I have suspicion that whatever is in there, Isolde wants us to deal with it peacefully."

With no hesitation, Bann Teagan turned back to him and uttered,"Just remember. Me, Isolde, everyone else is expendable as long as my brother gets out alive."

Those words struck at Aedan's heart. It reminded him of his parent's final moments, as they sacrificed themselves to save him. Someone who thought of others before themselves. This man, without a doubt, was somebody worth keeping alive in this world.

"I will save everyone. Not just Eamon. I promise." Aedan clenched his sword hilt in his hand. His right arm trembled to stop whatever madness threatened this family. He would not let the chaos of the Blight consume anymore than it had to.

Teagan smiled. "I'll hold you to that."

With that, Teagan and Isolde set off alone for the front entrance of the castle. Eventually they disappeared over the distance into the lone gate. Once the two had entered, Aedan directed the others to the passageway Teagan had shown him. Aedan lead the way forward with a spare torch. The passage was surprisingly large; perhaps it had been meant for emergency evacuation. Never did it's makers suspect it'd have to be used for infiltration.

As they navigated through the underground passage, Alistair asked bitterly, "I couldn't even get her to smile for 10 years, how'd you do it?"

"Experience," Aedan replied, "She was harsh on you I'm guessing."

"Harsh doesn't begin. Always berating me and treating me like something less than human. Did I mention she once made me sleep in the kennels?"

Sighing, Alistair leaned his head back between his hands.

"I guess I can't blame her. There were rumors swirling around that I was the bastard of Eamon himself. No grown woman's going to take that laying down."

_Perhaps Alistair was an outlet for all her pent up rage_, thought Aedan.

"Still, she could have been been less of a Morrigan."

The warden stopped midstride . "Excuse me?" Depending on Alistair's next choice of words, Aedan would have to duck for his life.

"Ah yes. I've come up with a new ranking system. There's okay, then annoying, then bitch, then Morrigan."

"I am so pleased to see that I am setting new records. Mother would be proud," called Morrigan from the back of the group. Much to Aedan's surprise, she did not take offense to Alistair's disingenuous assertions. Aedan theorized that she simply viewed Alistair's opinions as no more than the chirping of birds.

"We've really got the worst luck in women, haven't we buddy?" Alistair guffawed and slapped his friend on the back. Scratching the side of his head sheepishly, Aedan tried not to think about what had transpired between him and Morrigan the day before.

* * *

><p>Unsurprisingly, undead roamed the dungeon. This implied, however, that dead bodies lay in the dungeon prior. Arl Eamon seemed a kind man, and perhaps the dead were before his time. Then again, just like Aedan, every man had enemies. Eamon perhaps had simply jailed and starved his.<p>

With that thought in mind, Aedan spotted one such enemy cowering in a corner. The fact that he lived did not intrigue Aedan, but rather his attire: dirty mage robes. Sweat slicked bangs hid the mage's face. The undead had sent the man into a state of utter panic. Trembling, he crawled out of his corner and gazed upon the group.

"Jowan," gasped Wynne.

Aedan turned to her. "You know him?"

"He escaped the Tower." Her eyes narrowed. Aedan rarely saw Wynne so hateful. "By means of blood magic."

Now everyone directed their attention towards Jowan. Those two simple words reminded them of what had transpired at the Circle Tower. That beleaguered mage now posed the highest threat.

"Oi." Aedan banged his knuckles against the rusted steel bars. Jowan lifted his head from his hands. He sighed in relief and rushed up to the door. He had on a sad sort of smile when his eyes met Wynne.

"Hello Wynne. I didn't expect to see you again," he said.

"Neither I Jowan," came Wynne's regretful response.

"Did you ever think that when you were teaching me as a young child, that it would come to this? Me locked behind a cage like some animal?"

Wynne didn't respond. She didn't want to.

After that icy silence Aedan knocked against the bars again to get Jowan's attention. "Did you summon these undead?" he asked plainly.

"No. But...I did something terrible." Jowan turned away...in shame? For a blood mage to admit the fault of his actions surprised Aedan.

"Explain. I need all the information I can get if I'm to have chance at fixing this."

A tense quiet ensued, until Jowan answered, "I poisoned the Arl."

"Why?"

"On orders from Loghain. I had been in hiding since before the Ostagar incident, so I hadn't learned the full truth behind his betrayal. So when someone like Loghain asks you to do something for the good of the kingdom, and then offers you your life back, how can one just say no to that?"

"And so you'd poison an innocent man?"

"I didn't know! Loghain told me I was saving lives. That it'd redeem me."

"Did you didn't summon the undead?"

"No! I didn't summon them, I swear!"

"But there's no other mages here that could have done it."

A little softer, Jowan replied."There's one more."

_The final piece._

"Pardon?"

"Connor, the Arl's son, is a mage. Lady Isolde hired me to train him and keep it a secret from the outside world. Lest he be taken by the Circle, like me."

The puzzle pieces crashed together. Why Isolde had wanted a peaceful resolution, and to keep outside warriors from coming in. Why the demon had occurred a few weeks after the Arl's illness, not right after.

_The lengths a mother would go to to save one's son. _

"I'm not an expert on magic, but I'm assuming then that Connor has made some sort of deal with the demon in exchange for his father's well being."

"That seems the most likely explanation. I doubt the demon actually helped the Arl at all, and simply took advantage of the boy's naivety," said Morrigan.

"Despite Jowan's usage of blood magic, I know him well enough to say that he would not summon undead." Wynne's words came as a shock to Jowan. He hung his head in shame for betraying such a woman's trust.

"We need to get to Connor first and subdue him. Then we can decide how to proceed." Aedan turned back to the apostate."Thank you for the information. Your cooperation actually helped greatly."

Jowan clasped the iron bars. "What about me?"

Aedan paused. "What about you?" He didn't need to ask that question; everyone knew what the mage wanted. The question was whether or not he was a threat.

"He is a blood mage. We cannot trust him," stated Wynne whilst avoiding eye contact with Jowan._ Her distrust is that much for blood magic after the Circle incident, hmm._

"So we just leave him in here to die? Then how are we better then him?"

She didn't reply. Wynne's heart was wavering. Aedan could tell. The sight of her former pupil hurt her too much. Deep down, Aedan didn't really think Wynne wanted Jowan to die.

"I know that I screwed up," said Jowan who looked towards the floor and clasped the bars with all his might, "I know that. But want to set things right, please! My happiness has already been taken from me. At the very least-"

"-I can defend someone else's," finished Aedan. Blood mage or not, he had on the same expression as Bann Teagan: earnest and determined. His words too resonated with Aedan.

With one blow, Aedan broke the rusty lock. Morrigan covered her small smile.

For the first time in weeks, Jowan exited his cell. "I'm going to need to gather some things, but I have an idea how to stop this. I'll meet you at Connor, wherever he is. I owe him that."

Jowan vanished down the hallway. Whilst the sound of the his footsteps carried, Aedan wondered if he had made the right decision. At the very least he had absolved Wynne of her guilt. Aedan, by making the decision, had taken the consequences onto himself. Wynne would not need to feel so conflicted. Out of the corner of his eye Aedan saw her make an expression between a frown and a smile. The fact that she wasn't completely frowning satisfied him enough.

"That was not a wise decision. Mages, especially blood mages, are dangerous," muttered the qunari, still looking down Jowan's path of exit.

"Sten, he could help us. Sometimes our swords do more harm than good." Aedan kicked at an undead on the floor in thought. The qunari quieted in contemplation.

* * *

><p><em>Although not as effective as qunari explosive powder, lyrium based explosives sufficed enough to break all of D's layers of security.<em>

_One final bomb demolished the final reinforced door. The underground warehouse had gone completely dark. Under normal circumstances, Adair would light a fire and illuminate the whole place. His objective in this case might be destroyed as well if he did just that. He'd have to lure out D. _

"_You know D, buying lyrium-based explosives is really expensive."_

_No response. At the very least Adair had hoped to gauge D's position by sound._

"_Stealing them is a lot harder though. Although, I guess I really have to thank you for them, don't I?" he sneered harder. _

_A growl from the darkness. Adair almost felt like prey. He was the hunter here though. D had taken his bait. Adair turned to the noise._

"_Invading my territory with my own weapons. How impudent," echoed D's voice. It was somewhat nostalgic, hearing his old ally's voice. _

"_I've nothing against you D. Just hand me the documents, and we can all walk out of this without any trouble. Hell, I'll even stop disrupting your shipments. How about that?"_

"_Interesting. And what would you suggest you give me in exchange for all of my men you've killed? All my supplies you've stolen."_

"_Your life." Sparks flew as Adair's twin swords scraped against the marble floor. Briefly Adair could see the cloaked figure of D approaching from the front. _

"_Interesting interesting. I could have let you walk after blowing up my entrance."_

_The sound of a cloak being unfurled._

"_I could have let you walk after nearly killing Teharel."_

_The sliding of daggers against their holders._

"_Hell, I could have let you walk after what you did all those years ago."_

_A single breath of utter rage._

"_But the minute you suggest that my life is anybody else's but mine?"_

_A snap of the fingers. Torches were lit. Daggers flew. Swords sliced. The dance of the warriors had begun._

_Watching from above, Aedan could only think that what his fighting so far had been child's play. The scene below far exceeded his sessions with Teharel; these were two masters in their prime. they moved with breaktaking speed, parrying and dodging simultaneously. Sharp, exact blows rained down in a blur. It felt less like a dance, and more like two forces colliding._

"_You've gotten slow Adair." D's dagger landed straight at the heart, right past the swirling defense of Adair's swords._

"_You just love going for the heart, don't you?" laughed Adair. The dagger bounced off Adair's breastplate harmlessly. _

"_Never hurts to try. Looks like I'll just have to slit your throat instead."_

_Both of Adair's swords smashed down on the shelf D stood behind. The crimelord leg's spun in midair and kicked a falling golden statue into Adair's face. For the first time since Aedan had saw him, Adair staggered backwards. He wiped the blood from his lip. With a single glance at the red stain, Adair hurtled_

_A flash of metal, followed by the shriek of Adair's sword slicing through the air. D's dagger had been raised. He lifted two fingers._

_D had given the signal. _

_Atop the shelves, Aedan and Fergus began to make their move. One by one they began to launch various artifacts and statues down at Adair, who had to begin to sidestep even more._

_The first part of the plan was to attack Adair at an angle from which he could not defend while fighting D. Of course, the statues never did do much damage; Adair's reflex's would kick in and he would either smash or hit the object away. However, that split second he spent was enough for D to push him backwards and slice at him._

"_You are getting on my nerves, whoever is up there!" Adair whipped his sword against a nearby shelf and it broke in two. As the structure crumpled, Aedan jumped over to where his brother was. A soft thud alerted Adair to where he had landed. He struck again, and this time both Fergus and Aedan had to leap._

"_Is that the best you have? Little distractions?" Whipping his leg around, Adair slammed a golden syphon statuette back at D, right into his chest. D staggered backwards and caught himself on a shelf. _

_An explosion sent Adair flying backwards._

"_Come now old friend- I am the one you stole those explosives from."_

"_Very well then...Victor. Take care of the one's up top, will you?"_

_The slicing noise of metal rang in Aedan's ears. "Brother, to the next one, I'll handle this guy!"he shouted, motioning Fergus to the next designated shelf. After all, that had a plan to keep._

"_Looking forward to our rematch little noble boy. I underestimated you at the Alienage."_

_The shelf wobbled beneath Aedan's feet. The young man staggered backwards. He could see a flash of a smile from his opponent. "What's wrong? Unused to such unstable conditions?" _

_Victor lept forward, aiming for Aedan's throat. At the last second, Aedan drew his shield and deflected the forceful stab. His sword swung from above, and yet was parried by both of Victor's. _

_Aedan charged forward and and pushed Victor back like a battering ram. He needed to keep him away from both Fergus and Kylon._

_Meanwhile down below, D continued pushing Adair back with help from Fergus. He raised his hand to throw his dagger, raising up two fingers. Fergus dropped a golden statue. Adair sidestepped both. _

_D raised another dagger, raising up just one finger. Adair dodged the dagger, and jumped to avoid the statue. A small explosion threw him back. Wiping his brow, Adair grimaced at his dilemma. He couldn't tell which of the statues were to be explosives. _

_A little bit further! thought Aedan. Retreating backwards, Aedan barely avoided Victor's swords from chopping of his head. He hurled himself to the next shelf, whilst Victor followed. It soon became a frantic race of leaping from shelf to shelf._

"_You think you can escape me?" said Victor mid leap._

_If Victor could see Aedan's grin, he would not be as happy. Little by little, as Aedan began jumping more and more, he had been gaining a slight lead in terms of jumping time. Victor was in mid air, whilst Aedan was firmly on the shelf._

"_Sod off." Aedan slammed his shield against Victor's face. The younger assassin throttled down towards the floor and landed belly first on the floor. Struggling to get up, Victor cursed his own overconfidence before losing consciousness._

_Now that Victor was out of the way, Aedan raced towards where Kylon had been set up._

_Much to Adair's surprise, D stepped forward to attack, daggers in hand. This however meant that D had no more to throw. Adair gritted his teeth as he forced his bleeding and battered body to continue slicing. The bombs had taken a toll on him. D could tell Adair had slowed down. Yet even the crimelord was now worried. Daggers wouldn't suffice against swords._

_With a single thrust of both his swords, Adair aimed for D's stomach. The other man turned, narrowly fitting in the gap between the two. Yet still the edges grazed his back and stomach. Blood dripped from D's torso and he grunted in pain. A quick sidekick push Adair far back enough so that his sword were out of range._

"_Time to finish-"_

_All of a sudden, Adair found himself hanging upside down by his feet, tied by rope._

_Everything, the statues, the bombs, D fighting Adair, had all been Fergus's plan to lure Adair into that one spot without him noticing. The rubble from the shelves and statues had hidden the looped rope. Once Adair had stepped into that spot, Kylon had triggered the trap._

_Adair attempted to hoist himself up to cut the rope, but Aedan rushed out from the side and bludgeoned the man back down with his shield. Momentarily dazed, Adair finally dropped his swords._

_It seemed almost too good to be true. Aedan swiped the vials of noxious green liquid from beneath Adair's coat and stuffed them into his knapsack. The man hung upside groaning, while Kylon restrained Victor. _

"_I'm going to get these to the mages, they should be able to concoct an antidote." Aedan peered at D's scraped and bleeding body. No doubt Adair's poisonous swords had gotten him too._

"_I'll have my own people concoct one, it'll be quicker. Less Chantry oversight on what the mages can and can't do. I need one as well," said D who snatched the vials away from Aedan._

"_I can't thank you enough."_

"_Let's just add it to the enormous pile of debt you owe me, in addition for all my broken goods." The crime lord placed his hand on Aedan's shoulder to lean on. The sinister grin on D's face sent cold shivers down Aedan's spine._

_It seems Aedan had just traded one problem for another._

* * *

><p><em>Author Notes<em>

Hey everyone, this week's chapter is on time as well. I've generated a bit of a backlog, so for the next few chapters you can expect weekly updates.

Starting this chapter on, I'd like to take the time to response personally to the recent reviews:

**TLMonkey**: Yeah, sometimes I get so excited having finished a chapter I sort of rush to post it up and miss a lot of the errors. This time around I did good read through and I think I caught everything. Thanks for pointing it out!

**Jarjaxle**: Interesting comment about the relationships, because that's what I'm trying to focus more on, without detracting too much on the Origin's story. For me, DAO was the first companion-based game I had ever played (having migrated from MOBA's and RTS), and it really struck me how a game could make me care about these characters. So for me, DAO is about the relations between these characters, and how this creates the team, and Warden, that saves Fereldan. Regarding the character choice, you're right it's the most popular; Bioware put up a survey showing a wide margin for Male Human. I guess it's easier to empathize with.

Looking ahead at the future of this piece, there's about two more chapters left in this part, then a brief one chapter original story interlude, then the next themed part. Those three are about 75% done.

Once again, thanks for reading and feel free to leave review, constructive criticism, or just ask questions. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	26. Parent

**Part 2: Hope**

_Chapter 26: Parent_

Oren, Fergus's son, had been about the same age as Connor. Aedan still remembered the little boy pretending to be a monster to try and scare Aedan. As the self-proclaimed 'fun uncle' Aedan always fell over in fright and struggled to hold back his laughter.

Now Aedan truly faced a monster in a child's body.

Connor's neck turned in an unnatural direction. His jaw extended and he let loose a bone chilling scream that rattled all in the room. His skin, pale and corpse looking, stretched over his tiny face. Aedan tried to fathom the demon that lay beneath those glazed over eyes- yet he knew it to be futile. Such matters would always be beyond him.

The boy's feet lifted off and the boy glided off to the upper levels of the castle. On the floor lay the bleeding Bann Teagan. His guards sat nearby, also battered from their fight with Aedan's group. Isolde ran to Teagan and called, "Teagan! Wake up Teagan! Please!"

The man could only murmer. Though inaudible, he tried to reassure Isolde, despite his own critical condition. Wynne rushed to the Bann's side and began her healing magic. "He has simply suffered blood loss and dementia from the demonic control. I believe he will be fine in time."

Shaking, Isolde turned to the Aedan. Her eyes plead for her son's mercy.

"Warden, please. I know what this looks like."

"Isolde. Please calm down. I'm not about to go rush in and kill a child."

"Wait-" Jowan ran onto the scene from the other side of the room.

"You!" uttered Isolde with all the hatred she could muster. Lips quivering, she raised a dagger at Jowan, yet dared not move towards him.

"Lady Isolde, you can hate me all you want, but I didn't cause the demon to possess Connor. I want to get it out of him."

He turned to Aedan. "I have a way to get it out of him. Similar to the Harrowing, we'll send a mage into the Fade using Connor's mind as a reference point. From there, they will need to hunt down and destroy the demon. However-without large amounts of lyrium and more mages, we will need to use something else to power the ritual. Blood magic. More specifically, a live human."

Trembling, Isolde looked at Aedan straight in the eyes. She nodded once. Aedan knew what she wanted, and whom she wanted to sacrifice.

* * *

><p>With desperation, Aedan rode towards the mage tower. He egged on his horse as much as he could, whipping the reins to the point of abuse.<p>

_Faster!_

A live human. Sacrificing Isolde was out the question. He wouldn't let it happen-

And yet, Aedan questioned the validity of his decision. He had told Alistair and the rest to hold on, while he rode to the Circle of Magi for lyrium and more mages. Each second he rode, the demon lurked in castle of Redcliffe. Aedan doubted the villagers ability to fend for themselves while Teagan, the knights, and Aedan's own group had holed up in the castle.

Was his judgement clouded? Was this risk worth it, or was he letting his sentimentality get the best of him.

Morrigan word's still lingered on Aedan's mind.

No emotional attachment.

Isolde's attachment to Connor had caused this dilemma and countless deaths. She had just been trying to protect her son, but now his life and others hung in the balance.

Had Isolde just wanted to spare Connor the pain of the tower, or simply spare herself the pain of separation?

Teagan's attachment to his family led him to rush in with Isolde. Now he lay bleeding on the floor of Redcliffe Castle. He simply wanted to save his family, and yet in doing so forced Aedan and his company to waste effort subduing him.

Would Aedan's own attachment to the memories of his family destroy him? Back in Redcliffe, what he had done in blocking off the undead almost killed him. He had wanted to protect the men, but why?

_I still carry the guilt of that night. It's why I'm trying to save the Arl's family. Each time I swing my sword, I try to redeem myself for what I couldn't do. I don't do it because I actually care. I do it so that for each man I save, I get closer to redemption._

_But how many more? A hundred? A thousand? The world? I can't keep living like this- it's barely living at all._

He had seen so much destruction wrought by people like Howe, Loghain, and Uldred. Even before the Blight, there had been harshness inflicted upon others: onto Bann Aberlard's son, onto Isolde, onto Alistair, onto Teharel.

Disenchanted, Aedan had thought- what hope remains if the world lacks goodness? When even those with good intentions cause destruction?

But that wasn't true.

On that fateful night, his parents let go of the child they so cherished. With him, he carried their hope and saved the Circle and Redcliffe. Their sacrifice, and their intentions, had not been wasted.

Seeing Isolde, Teagan, the villagers, and even Jowan risk their lives reminded Aedan that the world was worth fighting for. He wished to protect these kind of people, not for his own redemption, but for their future.

At the very least, Aedan would show them someone out there was fighting for them too.

He would be their hope, and they would be his.

Aedan whipped the reins once again.

* * *

><p><em>Teharel opened his groggy eyes. A gnawing feeling ate away at where his right leg should have been. Instead a bandaged lump protruded from his pants. <em>

_The old elf lay in the bed of his old house, where Hijaya and Jarat currently lived. He could still smell some of the food by the table. Judging by the smell, he had just missed breakfast. He scowled upon seeing that the married couple had removed his liquor cabinet._

_The second thing he felt was the soft head of his daughter resting against his arm asleep. Had she been by his side the entire time? Jarat slept in a chair father back in corner. The elf scoffed. Show a little more love son in law. At least sit next to your wife and show some care for me as well, thought Teharel._

_Still standing and looking over Teharel, however, was Aedan. _

"_Oi...Aedan, I see I kept you up all night with worry."_

_The young man crossed his arms and scoffed. "Don't kid yourself. I saw you getting up and I decided to stand over here." Despite his rather cold statement, Aedan smiled, albeit sadly. He handed Teharel a glass of water and the parched elf guzzled it down. For five whole days the old elf had slept without sustenance. To him now, it surpassed any liquor. _

"_Such hurtful words once I wake up." The elf tried to slam down the glass on the nightstand, yet couldn't muster more than a soft thud. He doubted that simple prolonged inactivity caused such strength loss."Don't you know how to treat the dying?" His eyebrow raised. "Or am I not?"_

"_I got you the antidote." Aedan no longer smiled. His black bangs covered his face as the young man gazed at the floor. Aedan couldn't bear to meet Teharel's eyes._

"_But?" Teharel asked._

"_Whatever organ inside that deals with toxins and such, it's been damaged by your years of excessive drinking, as well as all those additional poisons you've had over the years. Because of that, it didn't process the poison well enough. It did a lot of damage to your insides. The mages gave you one year."_

"_Ah."_

_For once, the elf quieted. Aedan's words seemed too frank the way, yet that was their relationship. Never pulling the punches. Not so much friends as it was helping each other out. _

_Teharel had wanted to forget his past, so he had gardened, planting new life to replace that which he had once taken. It was why he had introduced Aedan to using a shield, instead of two blades like him and Adair. Perhaps by teaching the boy to protect others with his shield, it would redeem Teharel._

_In exchange, Aedan had received hope that one day his new skills would be enough to pluck him from his dreary noble life. _

_Silence passed until Aedan found the courage to speak. "I'm sorry. I assume this means you'll be quitting."_

"_I suppose so." Teharel held the glass and sipped again. This time he put it down gently._

"_It's been a good year."_

"_What do you mean 'It's been a good year'?" Teharel threw a nearby book at Aedan right in the face. "Don't just go killing me off like that. I'm not going to garden that mess of a house anymore, but I'm still expecting you to come down and show me how your training is going every once in a while."_

_The young noble couldn't help but chuckle at the elf's energy. "I don't think you should push yourself too hard Teharel."_

"_Even with one damn leg, I can still beat the shit out of you."_

_Teharel noticed a rather familiar bundle of papers by Aedan's feet. "The documents?" he asked, with only a minor hesitation. _

"_D gave them to me. Said they're more trouble than they're worth." _

"_Dd you look at them?"_

"_Yeah, and the only thing in there is gibberish."_

"_Not everyone is as stupid as you. It's encryption; you need the correct sequence of letters to decode it."_

_Such things exceeded his talents. He'd have to read through some books to learn it. Whilst Aedan excelled in politics and battle, the academic still eluded him._

"_Are you sure you don't just want me to burn this?"_

"_No. Adair wanted that information. I need to know why."_

"_Why can't you just tell me what the information is?"_

"_The documents there, are not just mine. It's all the reports that all the members used. I haven't gone through all of them, because they were coded before I could read them, and it's hard to decipher them at first glance."_

_Another silence ensued. During training, they cursed and swore. Compared to that, Aedan and Teharel weren't used to opening up like this._

"_Did D tell you...about what we did?"_

"_Bits and pieces."_

"_Ah."_

_Teharel had no words. He had made his choice long ago, and whatever he had done had been set in stone. Aedan could make his own decisions regarding the elf's morals._

"_Give me the cipher code." _

"_What?"_

"_Hurry up you geezer."_

"_Calm down you shemlen piece of shit," said Teharel, "Are you sure?"_

"_Until we know what Adair's plans were, we can never conclude this. So I'll take that burden off of you. You've done enough."_

_Not only did he owe a crime lord, Aedan was now translating dangerous documents that could put him in the crosshairs of dangerous people. _

_Such misfortune, he thought, but it's worth it. _

_For Teharel, Aedan would do what Fergus had done for his little brother. Take care of things._

_Teharel scribbled down a sequence of letters onto a scrap of paper and handed it Aedan. "Utter gibberish," laughed Aedan. Very carefully he wedged the slip into his pocket. "Don't worry Teharel. You don't need to worry about a thing. You and your daughter will be safe. I promise." _

"_And Aedan?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Thank you...for giving me a tomorrow."_

_As Teharel breathed out, he could feel the fatigue of a previous life, one that he had carried with him all these years. Now, at long last, he could pass on the torch. Teharel hoped, no, knew, Aedan could settle this. _

_The elf knew how selfish he was burdening Aedan like this. As Teharel ruffled his daughter's hair in between his wrinkled digits, he couldn't help but want to be a little selfish for once. _

_Aedan stepped outside, waited a few minutes, then peered back in. Hijaya had just woken up with a little bit of drool dripping from her face. She flushed in embarrassment at her father's grin and her elven ears grew pinkish._

* * *

><p>In a way, the wait cut deeper than any fight. The doubt ate away at their every thought, and they could do nothing to stop it.<p>

Nobody had slept though a day had past, save for the wounded. Who could, with a demon lurking upstairs? Isolde struggled to hold back her tears. Teagan still lay resting at her feet. Alone and isolated, the woman had resigned herself to silence in the corner of the room. The blood from her Redcliffe knights still stained the center carpet.

Even though this woman had terrorized him throughout his youth, Alistair knew he should do something. He took his cloak and wrapped it around her shivering body. "It'll be okay, Lady Isolde."

She still shook."He'll come back?"

"Without a doubt, even if the sky were raining fire, Aedan will be back."

The question was whether Connor's appetite for destruction had been sated for long enough. Alistair nevertheless wouldn't say such things to her. He put his hand on her shoulders and smiled the best he could. For both of them.

A slam against the door.

Isolde jumped out of her seat. The noise wasn't from upstair, but from the gate.

Which meant-

The group heard the sounds of the gate being drawn up, and the stomping of feet. Aedan strode in, carrying several large sacks of lyrium. The mages followed with their own apparatuses and books.

"Let's get this started. We got a kid to save," heaved Aedan. From this looks of it, he had sprinted up the stairs of the castle.

With great speed, the mage's drew chalk circles on the floor and arranged the lyrium in the center. Whilst the others did their work, Irving limped over to the Warden. "Have you made a decision yet? About who to send into the Fade?"

Aedan's finger pointed in the direction of the blood mage. "We're sending in Jowan."

"What? He's an apostate; a blood mage." Irving turned aside to glance at Jowan. He too remembered the young mage and his escape attempt.

It seemed unfair that Jowan, despite his best intentions, had only suffered. Yes, he used blood magic, yet Aedan didn't truly understand whether such a thing corrupted a person to below human standards. If the man wanted to help, then Aedan would let him. "You wanted your redemption, Jowan? Here it is."

* * *

><p>"Warden, I...I can't thank you enough."<p>

Connor slept soundly, his head resting on Isolde's lap. Jowan's trip into Fade took only ten minutes. For someone who had not been expected to survive his Joining, he had made short work of the demon.

"Don't thank me yet." Aedan hovered over the still sleeping Eamon, along with Wynne and the First Enchanter."If we at least had a sample of the poison, there's a slim possibility we could concoct a cure."

First Enchanter Irving pried open Arl Eamon's eye and checked for any abnormalities. Aedan grimaced at this familiar situation. "How much time does he have?"

"Surprisingly, he is stable. As long as we sustain his nutrients by means of magic, then he could perhaps live as long as any of us. It's almost as though he's sleeping."

"Does that mean the demon actually helped?"

"It's possible. This does complicate the situation. The demon may in fact have cured the poison, but the symptoms may still remain. It's similar to the stories of wishes that backfire. If you're not specific enough, demons will not fulfill exactly what you want. Most likely young Connor wished for the poison to be gone."

"Tsk. Stingy ass demons," muttered Aedan. "So the antidote method is out of the question now."

"I'm assuming the healer here has tried all the standard poison treatments and salves?"

"Everything. We've tried everything."

Irving finished his examination, and relucatantly began, "I...think-"

"How about the Urn? The Urn of Sacred Ashes?" came Isolde's desperate shout. Connor turned in his sleep and mumbled at the loud interruption. Everyone turned to Lady Isolde. "It is rumored that the ashes of the holy Andraste can cure any illness," stated Isolde.

Teagan wasn't sure if she was serious."That's just a rumor Isolde. We can't waste our time looking around for it."

"It's a rumor, but rumors can have basis in reality. By word of mouth, an actual miracle cure may have been mistaken to be the Ashes of Andraste. If we follow these claims of the Ashes, there's a distinct possibility we could find a cure," said Aedan. In truth, he didn't want to bet everything on such a rumor, but they had only this lead. An unconventional situation required unconventional solutions. "But I'm sorry Isolde; until you have solid leads on the location of such a cure, I cannot follow up on this. My party and I have to continue preparing for the Blight."

"I understand Warden. I'll send the knights out to search. Once we have something solid, I will inform you."

"How about you Teagan?"

"Denerim clamors for the Arl of Redcliffe, and yet he has fallen ill. I will need to take my brother's place in court for now. I will try to hamper Loghain as much as I can for you Warden."

"What else is there to take care of?"Aedan didn't want to leave anything unfinish-

"What about Connor?"

All five people had a heavy look on their faces when Wynne asked the question. No one, not even those from the Circl, enjoyed being the ones to tear a child from his family.

"He will need to be taught by the Circle," stated the First Enchanter.

"If I may First Enchanter," interrupted Aedan. A plan had formed in his head. "Whilst the Arl is still sick, we'll need a mage on constant medical duty. If we leave a Circle sanctioned mage here along with some templars to protect the Arl, wouldn't you say it 'd be a more suitable teaching environment than the current state of the Tower?"

Irving tried his best not to smile. He had to stay composed at all times, yet the suggestion warmed his heart. Stroking his beard in thought, Irving mused, "Yes. That may work. I will speak to the templars about this, and tell them of your idea. Knowing how much they owe you, I think they will take it under consideration." The First Enchanter bowed and took his leave along with Wynne. Once the door had shut, Isolde threw herself at Aedan and hugged him as hard as she could.

"Thank you Warden." Isolde sobbed into his chest. "Truly." Her tears ran down his tunic and even dripped to the floor. "What can I do to ever repay you?"

Aedan could have probably used the extra sovereigns. Maybe some knights to accompany him. Maybe he could just save this favor for later.

Yet Aedan knew exactly what he needed to do. Not for himself, but for Connor. Aedan told Isolde what had been done for him a long time ago:

"Just cherish him. Cherish him while you still can. Teach him as much as you can. That way, when he finally goes into the world, he'll be ready."

"Because when he goes to that tower, he's going to be scared. He's going to be angry. He's going ask 'why me?' But the more you cherish him, the more he'll remember you. The more he'll remember that outside and inside of that tower are people just like you. People worth fighting for."

The memories of his family constantly ate away at Aedan. Dinner with everyone. Telling stories to Oren. Helping Nan with her errands. Listening to his mother and father bicker. Playing pranks on Fergus.

He had swung his sword for redemption for that night his family died. He had gritted his teeth as their memories powered each of his blows.

But that was in the past. No matter how many times he swung, he could never bring them back.

So now, what he had to do-

What they all had to do-

"And eventually, he'll stop looking backwards, and start moving forwards to his tommorow."

Isolde made the saddest smile through her streaming tears. "That's a tall order Warden," she laughed, wiping away those fragile droplets.

"Sorry, but you're going to have to do it," he laughed. He realized how lame and childish what he had just said was, yet perhaps Isolde needed those idealistic words. The noises of everyone had finally stirred Connor from his long sleep. Isolde rushed to his side and cradled him. Aedan watched and whispered:

"You're his parent after all."

* * *

><p><em>Author Notes<em>

A little heavy on the introspection this time around, but after the last few action chapters (Redcliffe defense, capturing Adair) it felt like a nice break when writing.

**Guest: **Funny you should mention Sten, Leliana, and Zevran, because the next part of the story is titled Justice, and it focuses a lot more on those three (all of whom have done dubious things). It'll be during the Dalish quest, while the flashback story deals with the trial, interrogation, and motives of Adair. There's actually going to be little or no action in the flashback story, it'll mostly be politics. I've been looking forward to writing this part and the one after, because it's the start of a major arc for Aedan.

As always, feel free to ask question or leave reviews/constructive criticism. Thanks for reading everyone!


	27. Tommorow

**Part 2: Hope**

_Chapter 27: Tomorrow_

Corpses littered the barren soil. Some hung from the broken pieces of buildings, and others lay half-eaten. Blood stained the remains of the Chantry.

A stench permeated the air, yet not one of rot. The Blight delayed body decomposition; the taint applied not only to mammals, but smaller organisms like flies and grubs. Aedan inhaled all he could. He needed to remember this smell: how it sickened him till he wanted to puke. He needed to remember this sight: how the weeks old bodies still looked freshly slaughtered.

Only Alistair and Aedan stood in the ruins. The entire darkspawn horde had swarmed the town and infected the entire area with the taint, thus toxifying the area to all but Grey Wardens. The rest of the group camped in the forest awaiting the results of the survey.

Lothering. Now the town existed only in memory. Aedan wondered how many had survived. The number of corpses, no matter how it disgusted Aedan, paled in comparison to the losses of Ostagar. If the king's army and Grey Wardens had been so easily slaughtered, then villages like Lothering stood no chance. Aedan needed higher tolerance for the escalating carnage.

Aedan hovered over a lone darkspawn corpse. Several villagers surrounded it, along with their weapons. It took all of them to bring down just one darkspawn.

_How scared must they have been? Seeing their friends and family murdered before them?_

"Damn it!" Aedan slammed his sword into the darkspawn corpse again and again. He wished he had been there to defend. Their eyes stared at him in accusation, cold and dead. Aedan's stomach churned.

"DAMN IT!" Blood splattered over Aedan's boots. No matter how much Aedan struck, he still felt the eyes of the dead watching.

His blows dulled until finally Aedan relented. "We can't save them all, can we?" he panted as he sheathed his bloodstained weapon. At the very least, he wanted to build a proper pyre, but... "There's too many to make a proper pyre. We'll just have to burn them."

One by one, Aedan and Alistair lit the bodies. Aedan felt like an arsonist, for burning these barely decomposed bodies.

"Should we say something?" asked Alistair, who surveyed the scattered fires. They had wandered the entire area to burn every last body.

"We didn't know them. We didn't save them." Aedan tossed the torch onto the final corpse. "I don't think we get that right."

Staring into the fire of their failure, Alistair asked,"What's next for us?" His face twisted in mental agony as he locked eyes with the dead. His gaze fell.

"Until Isolde has solid leads on the Ashes, we keep working. I've got leads on the Dalish, and a merchant informed me of a golem. Might be useful." Despite the horrors before him, Aedan remained stone-faced. Alistair saw this, yet knew that Aedan ached. He had remained stoic before Uldred, before the undead, even the demon-possessed Connor, but no man could remain unshaken. Alistair could at least cheer Aedan up by reminding him of their success.

"Thank you, for doing everything you could to save the Arl's family. I know that I spoke ill of the Arlesse before, but...she holds a place in my heart regardless."

Aedan paused. He knew what Alistair was trying to do, yet words couldn't help Aedan. "We worked the hardest we could and we saved one family. We just burned the corpses of twenty."

People would die. Aedan had always known this, it simply had not hit him until now. He'd never seen the corpses of his family, nor of those at Ostagar. Seeing the dead at Lothering just made the losses real. Their one triumph at Redcliffe cost them time they could have used for Lothering. Whether the village could have been saved didn't matter. Aedan and Alistair had to carry that doubt.

Aedan tried not to shake. "We're going to lose a lot more than we win, but we're going to win this," he asserted to Alistair and himself.

* * *

><p>For once, Aedan did not take guard duty. He instead elected to stay by Morrigan's fire that night; he needed a small break from responsibilities. He roasted a rabbit over her fire, rotating the rabbit with concentration and precision. Morrigan scrutinized him.<p>

"Not even blood magic scares you. How scary," joked Morrigan as she leaned her chin in her hands.

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of monster."

"You mow down undead, slaughter ogres, destroy even Pride abominations. All those civilians must feel so very safe."

"Thought you didn't care about them. Survival of the fittest."

"I don't. What I care about is your prowess. It warrants investigation. And I do not hate others. Wolves do run in packs. Tis foolish to think one can go it alone."

"So you don't oppose friendship and love."

"Do not be a fool. I travel with those whom I respect."

"So you respect me? That's nice."

Ignoring Aedan's jests, Morrigan continued on. "Tell me. I lived in a world apart from people. Isolated from them. I built my life around avoiding detection and cultivating my own power, yet they do not revere me. Instead I am feared."

She focused in on Aedan in his entirety, as though scanning him for weakness.

"And yet here you are. The masses flock to you. You do not swing your sword to force people to do things. Your words and movement hold power. Explain it."

Aedan found it strange that one as shrewd as Morrigan couldn't determine this. Even Morrigan needed help learning things. "People skills," he lectured, "You tell them a mix of what they want to hear and what needs to be heard. That magical mixture instils hope. It's simple."

"Hmph. They truly are buffoons. I, on the other hand, have no need for such words."

"So you make your own hope. In a way, you're a lot stronger than me."

"Stronger in one way? I think many."

"Coming from the woman who couldn't climb up a horse."

"Coming from the man who couldn't even undo his own armor."

Despite such hurtful statements, the two shared a smirk. Their playful banter continued: these expressions of Aedan hadn't surfaced for a while. Aedan often had to put on a brave face and uplift them with others. Aedan felt he didn't need to hide with Morrigan; she didn't need him to inspire her. In a world with people depending on him, she instead walked alongside him.

Thinking back on events, Aedan wrung his hands and gazed into the fire.

"Aedan. Did you hear what I said?" interrupted Morrigan. Lost in thought, Aedan had cut off the conversation accidentally.

"Ah sorry sorry," said Aedan with a hearty chuckle. Morrigan had grown accustomed to Aedan listening to her. For him to ignore her unexpectedly soured her expression like a pouting child. She pursed her plump lips and glanced away.

"What were you saying?" asked Aedan.

"Nothing," smiled Morrigan.

Silence ensued, yet didn't bother either. The two sat beneath the clear night sky, both watching the crackling fire. After quite some time, Morrigan glanced over and declared: "Tis cold."

"Mmm." Aedan stared into the flames, lost in thought. Annoyed, Morrigan slid next to him and wrapped her arms around his. The cold of her skin startled him. The warden went red and instinctively gazed at Morrigan.

"Tis cold in my tent, all alone." She stroked her finger up and down his arm.

"Is it now?" stuttered Aedan. He still hadn't thought more on Morrigan's earlier proposal. "Sometimes I find that extra blankets or tucking it under me or setting up closer to the fire-"

"Aedan." Her soft gaze lingered along with the silence. She exhaled and her breath felt hot against his face. Aedan's words left him. His heart hastened.

_Maker she's beautiful._

"Shut up and kiss me," murmured Morrigan ever so softly. All the thoughts in Aedan's head disintegrated. Delicate cold fingers slid against his.

Aedan couldn't help but lean in and kiss her.

* * *

><p><em>Scarcely had Aedan seen his parents so angered at him, and even fewer at Fergus for he was the civil one in the family.<em>

_Bryce Cousland struggled to maintain his calm. What frightened Aedan more was the death gaze of his mother, which she directed at him alone. She always knew perpetrator's identity, mainly because it was always Aedan._

"_Would you like to explain to me why the guards, instead of bringing you two back last night, lost you, and instead we've imprisoned two convicts? One of whom I might mention is restrained by all manners of chains?"_

_Kylon's reasoning for bringing Adair and Victor to the Cousland's Denerim estate made sense. If the two had been released before from the royal dungeons, they could escape again. After having hurt Aedan however the Cousland family gained judicial precedence, and thus custodial rights were granted until Adair's hearing. Aedan shivered at the thought of Adair living under the same roof as both him and Teharel's documents. _

"_What were you thinking! You two could have gotten yourselves killed!" ranted Eleanor. Aedan feared she might scratch out his eyes. Knowing how well polished his mother kept her nails, she could very well do so_

_Fergus muttered under his breath, "It was Aedan's idea."_

"_I'll kill you brother," replied Aedan casually without missing a beat._

"_I will kill both of you," seethed their father. "According to Sergeant Kylon's report, the man known as Adair is 'dangerous enough to take down twelve guards and heavily armed'. And you went chasing after him in the night!" Aedan wasn't sure, but he thought his father's forehead had wrinkled even more.. _

"_Teharel was in danger though-"_

"_Teharel is fired by the way, I will not let him stay in this castle after the danger he has brought to you."_

"_Well, he sort of gave me his resignation a few hours ago, so you're late in that depar-"_

"_While I appreciate your noble intentions, please, for Maker's sake, do not try and kill your Father and I early with stress. We were worried sick."_

_Aedan bowed in regret. He hadn't thought of how his parents must have been, waiting in their bedroom all night worried with stress. "I'm sorry, to both of you." _

_Bryce grunted and his face soured in neither approval nor disapproval. "Now that is out of the way, your mother and I are going out to dinner with Arl Howe. Please, do not try to get yourselves killed inside the house."_

_Before leaving, Eleanor pulled the housekeeper aside."Nan, keep these two away from the cutlery." She glared at her two boys with ill intent. "Maker knows what havoc they'll bring."_

_After the others had left, Aedan held his hand out to Fergus. "Thank you. For sticking by my side last night. For coming up with the plan that took down Adair."_

_Fergus shook Aedan's hand. "That's what an older brother is supposed to do: look out for his little brother."_

"_I guess so."_

_Still shaking hands, Fergus's smile turned rather malicious. "And as the younger brother, isn't it your duty to repay your wonderful sibling for all the help he's given you? By which I mean, oh I don't know, looking after Oren for several weeks while Oriana and I go on a long deserved vacation?" He tightened and tried to crush Aedan's hand. _

_Aedan groaned. No doubt those two would canoodle in a cozy village, leaving him to deal with his parents and Oren. Rubbing his face in irritation, Aedan peeked at his brother's stupid grin. He was grateful his hand covered his face, or else Fergus would have spotted a grin just as stupid. _

"_Getting me to do your work again, such a lazy brother!" Aedan too squeezed tighter. Both men's faces reddened as they tried to defeat the other. Eventually, once they had reached a standstill, Fergus punched his brother in the chest to save his almost broken hand._

_They always bickered, fought, and pulled each other hair. They laughed together, drank together, and nursed each other hangovers. Most of all, no matter what pinch either of them got into, they always had each other's back._

_That's my bother of a brother, thought Aedan as Fergus put him in a headlock._

* * *

><p>Morrigan did not cling much; even Isabela had hugged him for a bit. After catching her breath, Morrigan had simply sat right back up. Aedan couldn't help but stare at that flawless smooth back of hers as she pulled her robes over herself. The night's events were still seared into his mind: how she had lay bare before him, how he ravaged her, how she bit her lip to keep in her moans.<p>

"Well well, looks like the rumors about the Grey Warden's stamina are true after all. Physical prowess combined with that darkness of the taint makes for quite the combination." She wiped sweat off her still slicked forehead.

"What now?"

"What now indeed. I did certainly enjoy that." Morrigan turned to him and smiled. "And I know for a fact that you did as well."

"I think it would be a pity, nay, even foolish of us not to take advantage of such a situation again," smirked Aedan.

"Exactly. What else is life for if not for enjoying it's pleasures- but there shall be no talk of silly things such as 'love'. This is physical, nothing else. If you want someone to cradle you to sleep, go find someone else."

Aedan knew it would be difficult to separate his emotions from his physical relationship, but it couldn't be harder than standing stoic in front of an army, emotionless. He could do it. He had to be able to do at least this much.

'Sounds good to me." Aedan too collected his things and prepared to leave.

"Good."

Just as Morrigan was about to kick Aedan out of her tent, she smiled and bit her lip. After a moment's thought, she pulled her robe back over her head. Morrigan straddled Aedan, and his eyes lingered over her swaying breasts. She laughed at his immaturity and grasped him by the chin, leading his eyes into hers. "The night is still young."

Aedan chuckled and pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. His fingers intertwined with her soft, dark brown hair as he cradled her head. Gradually, it intensified, as the sweet honey taste of her lips sent Aedan into a fervor. Morrigan placed her hands on Aedan's chest. Gradually Aedan's warmth began to seep into her chilled hands.

Their lips parted, their surfaces lingering for the briefest of moments. Aedan stared into those unfathomable eyes of hers that twinkled with mischief and chaos:

Was it eyes of a scheming wolf devouring it's prey, or the eyes of woman indulging in her lust? To be frank, he didn't care. For the first time since a certain night, Aedan Cousland looked forward to tomorrow.

* * *

><p>PART 2 END<p>

* * *

><p><em>Author Notes<em>

And that wraps up part 2.

TLMonkey: Yeah, I had a bit of trouble writing the last chapter, trying to revise it and refine the monologue. Thanks for pointing out the error, I went and fixed it.

ChocolateTruffles: I was going for a little cheesy, so thanks for noticing.

Guest: I saw you came in and read through Chapter 1-26, hope you enjoy the updates from now on.

Next chapter is a more lighthearted interlude original story (with no flashback section), after which we'll resume with part 3, which is titled Justice.

A few thoughts on this last part, and the titling. I called the last few chapters 'Hope' because about Aedan learning that he needs to inspire those around him in order to stop the Blight, as well as inspiring himself. I tried to contrast a more doubtful, brash, and immature Aedan in the flashback stories with that of Aedan rallying people in the present. The older younger brother relationship exemplifies this: in the flashback story, Aedan is the younger while Fergus is the older, whereas in the present Alistair is the younger and Aedan is the older.

As for what's coming up, expect to see much more of Adair now that he lives in the Cousland dungeons, and to learn more about Teharel as well. I've been looking forward to writing the next two parts because of a planned personal development arc for Aedan, and how it plays off the flashback stories.

Expect the next chapter in a week!


	28. Gift

**Interlude**

_Chapter 28: Gift_

The sounds of explosives in his ears.

The screaming of innocents.

The tearing of flesh.

None of these compared in pure unadulterated pain to Alistair's chewing. The man's lips loudly smacked against one another. The food inside made disgusting sticky noises.

Aedan's eye twitched. Under any other circumstance, he would tolerate this. However, as the templar's mouth hovered literally in front of his ear, Aedan felt compelled to slap Alistair,. Furthermore, Alistair scowled at him, which both bewildered and annoyed Aedan.

"I'm sorry Aedan," stated Alistair in a loud monotone voice, "am I being too loud?" He chomped down on his food extra hard and drew out his chewing.

"Just a bit." Aedan clenched his bowl. He wondered if breaking it over the other man's head would cause acceptable injuries.

"Oh I'm sorry. Perhaps I should be more considerate to others when I do some sort of activity which involves noise." Alistair's eyes widened and he nodded up and down, as though expecting Aedan to do the same.

Slowly Aedan faced the templar, as not to unleash his rage by accident. "Subtlety isn't really your strong point, is it?"

"I don't know what you mean," spat out Alistair through his gruel. A little bit of spit flew onto Aedan's face.

"Is this about the-"

"I believe it is referring to the daily fornication with the swamp witch."

The other members of the group looked down at their food and munched away, avoiding any conversation. Aedan had never experienced such an awkward silence. Twisting his body around, Aedan looked up at the culprit.

"Thank you Shale," seethed Aedan.

The trip to Honnleath had been quite uneventful, save for the minor darkspawn infestation. By now, the group killed darkspawn regularly when travelling in the south. After Ostagar they spilled out and wandered. They had not yet assembled in large hordes since Ostagar; perhaps that battle sated the darkspawn. The so called "darkspawn sense" had kicked in for Aedan. Darkspawn always flocked to him when travelling.

Better me than some clueless travellers.

One such traveller had donated a golem rod to Aedan. After some trouble, the group had welcomed Shale (or at least Aedan) with open arms. Shale did not care for the gesture. The golem seemed to care very little except for the eradication of birds, which had led to tonight's chicken soup.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough. My previous statement was intended to be rather snide. Unless, of course, it would like me to say more?" Shale's statement dripped with such malice that Aedan simply didn't respond. He sighed: better that he deal with this now. Aedan had not yet discussed with the others anything regarding him and Morrigan. "Well Alistair?"

"It's not you," admitted Alistair, trying his best to smile, "it's mostly her." Alistair looked to his fellow warden for a reciprocation of his grin. Aedan stared at him blankly with loathing eyes. Clearly Aedan did not want to talk about this, and yet Alistair was digging into it, so Aedan would make him suffer for it.

"As in?"

"Are you really going to make me say it?"

"If you're going to chew in my ear, you better be prepared to say it."

"She shrieks like a genlock, Aedan," blurted out Leliana. She, as well, could no longer tolerate the noises coming from either Morrigan or Aedan's tent each night. "I'm sorry, but I haven't been able to get a good nights sleep for the past two weeks since you two started your...little tryst."

Alistair beamed: finally, an ally appeared. "See, I'm not alone! So, for all of our sakes, could you please tell her to, you know, close her mouth or something."

"Why not just tell her yourself?"

"I feel as though this is a sensitive topic that needs to be handled with the utmost care. Also it infuriates me to deal with her."

"I am right here," growled Morrigan, who didn't care enough to even look in the templar's direction.

"Can't see you. Out of sight out of mind."

"I'm sitting right next to Aedan. I'm literally a swords length away from you, and that's at least within your useful distance."

Alistair threw his arms up in exasperation at Morrigan's snark."My point exactly."

Indeed, Aedan feared what might happen, sitting between Alistair and Morrigan. Perhaps he might implode from their generated fury. Stranger things had befallen him. With that in mind, Aedan outstretched his arms and pushed Morrigan and Alistair further apart. "I feel rather uncomfortable discussing my sex life with you all. We all have gotten close over the past few months, but there is too close."

"We would not have to discuss this if she quieted down."

"Excuse me for enjoying myself," snarled Morrigan, "I least I don't 'go practice secret templar techniques' in the forest by myself."

Alistair reddened like a tomato. "Wh-What are you implying!"

"It is implying that the templar masturbates."

Zevran had to hold both hands over his mouth to keep from bursting out into laughter and tears. "Thank you Shale," seethed Alistair, who raised his soup-bowl to his face to cover his embarrassed face.

"Tis all it's own fault for treating me like a coat-stand and thinking I am not equally disgusted by it's actions. In fact, just the other day-"

"Thank you Shale," said Aedan and Alistair together. The golem muttered something under it's breath and staggered off.

Although his body turned towards Morrigan, Aedan avoided her piercing gaze. He looked a little to her left and scratched his temple. "We could be a little quieter, couldn't we?" He grinned sheepishly and glanced at Morrigan. The witch fumed and exhaled angrily through her nostrils.

"I do not see why I should need to quiet down."

Aedan sighed; convincing Morrigan of anything would require more time and dedication. He lacked these at night. "Fire's dying. I'm getting some more firewood," he said, desperate for some excuse to escape. Aedan got up as calm as he could, then, once he was out of sight, sprinted away.

* * *

><p>Morrigan glared at the rest of the group. Some, like Sten and Shale, remained ambivalent in their expressions. Despite the golem's comments, Morrigan honestly thought it could care less, and it just enjoyed stirring up trouble. Wynne and Leliana avoided eye-contact; those two steered clear of Morrigan. Only Alistair returned her menacing glare. He stared her down until finally, irritated by his stare, Morrigan relented.<p>

"Fine!" She crossed her arms in front of her and sneered. "I will try my best to be quieter. Now go bother Aedan or something."

Alistair pumped his fist in the air, relishing his rare victory over Morrigan. He danced a little on his seat, much to the bemusement of Leliana and Wynne. Satisfied, he finished up his food and gave a content belch.

"Well, I guess I should be nicer to him, considering his gift," mused the templar. Alistair referred to the stone demon miniature that Aedan had found for him at the market. The templar would not tell anyone, but he liked to line them up in his tent whenever he went to sleep. "Although maybe he was trying to bribe me."

"He is quite considerate in that matter," Wynne nodded. In her tent, a pile books with diverse, interesting topics had been selected for her by Aedan.

The group usually left money management to Aedan. He'd divide the loot and share the profits equally. He always brought a sizeable amount back from the markets; Morrigan suspected that as a noble Aedan must have negotiated a lot.

As such, everyone procured and maintained their own equipment. If such things required extra money, then they'd borrow it from others. Their money separation was quite casual and just a formality. Sten usually elected to forgo his share, and saved the bare minimum, as did others occasionally (save for Zevran).

Leliana frowned in thought, playing with her bronze symbol of Andraste. "Raise your hand if he's given you a gift."

Everyone except Morrigan raised their hand.

"Come now, we all know you didn't magic that necklace out of nowhere," said Zevran, himself having received a rather nice pair of leather boots from Aedan. With an exasperated expression Morrigan raised her hand. She did not particularly enjoy group activities, nor did she particularly enjoy this group.

"_And what would your ideal group be? A whole army of me? I'm flattered."_

That man no doubt would tease her like that. Aedan had assembled a rather motley crew of individuals. While their combat skills excelled, their personal quirks bothered Morrigan. Most of all, they always demanded she act a certain way- 'civil', as Alistair put it. Did 'civil' behavior also include Aedan's gift giving habit? If so, Morrigan wished to have no part of it.

"Hmm. He's very casual about it, isn't he."

"Maybe we should give him something."

"What...does he like?"

The group sat baffled in silence.

"He's not particularly religious. I don't think he'd enjoy Chantry trinkets."

"I already warm his bed, so as turns out, I am the most generous out of all you, despite all your complaints suggesting otherwise."

"That does not count as a gift in any way, shape, or form. Ever."

"But I even do-"

"Lalalalal," went Alistair, covering his ears. He continued for awhile until Morrigan stopped talking.

"Does he like reading?" inquired Wynne.

"Not that I know of."

"He just sorta...sits at the fire and talks."

"A good soldier," said Sten.

"A boring soldier," muttered Zevran.

Whilst the others bickered, Morrigan thought hard on Aedan's interests. What did she always see him doing and enjoying? They weren't wrong in their assessment of his daily activities. They spent the days travelling and finding information. They'd quell the occasional darkspawn, but most were still south. At night, Aedan really did just sit and stare at that fire. Of all of them, he took guard duty the most. It seemed redundant, now that Shale the unsleeping golem had arrived. Even with his new nightly activities, Aedan still continued to stand guard.

Sometimes, Morrigan would join him by the fire, simply to converse. She enjoyed their time together, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. Other times she'd just translate her mother's grimoire, sitting silently while he ate.

_Ate. Eating._

"He eats...constantly."

Everyone turned to Morrigan. All their stares bothered her, so she looked off into the forest. An inaudible click went off in all the others' heads.

"He does, doesn't he?"

"He's always sneaking extra food or hiding bread rolls or something-"

"He took some of my cookies earlier-"

"I think he ate most of the stew last night-"

"Is he like a child-"

They all noticed, however, that their bickering had begun to louden. Their conversation quieted into nothing more than whispers.

* * *

><p>"<em>To our little pup's fifth birthday!"<em>

_Aedan felt intimidated by number of adults at the table. He had seen some of them in the castle sometimes, but nobody that he particularly cared about, save for his family and Uncle Howe. Fergus sighed in boredom and flicked at a piece of chicken off the table. Aedan's mother had said something about the 'moody teenager phase'. Aedan wasn't sure what she meant, but it always seemed anger Fergus._

"_Look at him, my little boy is growing bigger and bigger every day!" His mother approached him from behind and wrapped her arms around him. She leaned in and planted a big kiss on the top of his neatly done hair. Her brown hair flowed down and tickled the tip of his nose._

_Aedan's mother still towered over him. He wondered when he'd grow that tall. His mother and Nan always claimed that those annoying green things on his plate would help, but they tasted disgusting._

"_Oh, and here's Uncle Howe's gift!"_

_Bryce Cousland lay a small wrapped package in front of Aedan. The young boy clawed the delicate paper to shreds. Inside lay a small ornate lockbox, with a strange lock welded on. The sheer shine of the gift overloaded Aedan's mind. The young boy sat staring at it in a daze._

"_Howe, you bugger. You're making the rest of us look bad!" Fergus playfully punched Howe in the arm. The other man simply smiled and refused to return the blow. _

"_What is it Uncle Howe?"_

"_It's a safe box. Dwarven-made. Every once in awhile, open it up like so-"_

_Howe walked over to the box and began shifting and turning the gears. Strange clicking noises could be heard from the box. After several minutes, however, he still couldn't get it open. Howe's forehead twitched. Irritated, he made an aside to his guard, who gave him rather crumpled pamphlet. _

_His effort payed off; the box swung open and the inside revealed it's interior, with red velvet with dwarven markings stitched in. Howe wiped his forehead and silently cursed the dwarves. "Open it up like so and put important things like money in there."_

_Aedan silently wowed at how amazing it looked. Aedan clung to Howe's leg and gave him a big hug._

"_Thank you thank you thank you! It's so cool!"_

_He raced back to the the box and began turning it upside down and peering inside._

"_Remember Aedan, every once in awhile take some money and put it in. Eventually, you'll have yourself a fortune. Learning to save your money will teach you to become a fine young man, worthy of being a noble."_

_Aedan beamed. "Yes Uncle Howe!" In his fervor whilst examing the box, the lid snap shut. Howe groaned and covered his face with his hands._

"_Oh, dear, it might take some time for us to get that open again-" muttered Bryce, who was then interrupted by a rather loud click. The lockbox swung back open again, with Aedan having done something to open it. The adults could only stare in amazement as Aedan closed it again, redid the lock, and unlocked it once more. Aedan seemed to enjoy the complicated lock more than the box._

"_Did he just figure that out all on his own?" chuckled Howe. He laughed heartily, so much so that Aedan turned and smiled at him._

"_Whatcha laughing 'bout Uncle?"_

"_Nothing child, nothing at all."_

_Howe wiped away tears from his eyes, and tossed the paper into the fire. Standing over Aedan, he ruffled the boy's hair. "I'm going to have watch out for you when you get older, won't I?"_

* * *

><p>"We have something for you."<p>

Aedan seemed taken aback. Whether it was the package outstretched to him or Alistair's rather too enthusiastic smile, Morrigan couldn't tell. For her, the latter usually caused the utter disgust for the templar.

"What?" Aedan scratched his head, and squinted his eyes at the package.

Alistair sighed and began to enunciate each word. "We. Have. Something. For-"

"I know. It's just...kinda unexpected."

"You give us gifts all the time, why can we not return the favor?" piped in Leliana. She too had on such a sickly sweet grin that Morrigan felt like puking.

Gingerly, Aedan grasped the package that Alistair held out for him. He held it up to his ear and flicked his finger against it, trying to guess what was inside.

"Thanks everyone."

"Twas the witch's idea to get you that item- you should thank her thoroughly later," snickered Zevran. The elf slithered away before Morrigan could bring her death gaze down upon him.

"How very considerate of you Morrigan." Aedan smirked at Morrigan's slightly embarrassed and angry face.

"Tis just food, do not get overly excited."

With a gentle touch Aedan undid the wrappings. On his tenth birthday, he had unwrapped his present in such fervor that he accidentally ruined the gift; he had been vigilant after that. The contents extinguished Aedan's smirk.

Aedan whispered, "Is this salted smoked venison?" The package shook in his trembling fingers. He gulped, and his stomach growled.

"Yes, we thought you might like something meat based. And we travel a lot, so it's easy to carry and eat on the go-"

Aedan already had it in his mouth, chewing on it like a dog. Morrigan scowled.

"What?" sputtered Aedan through a mouthful of venison.

"Don't eat it all at once fool. Tis for the road."

"It's my gift, I get to do what I want with it."

"You look like a dog," snapped Morrigan.

"Coming from the woman who shapeshifts into one," replied Aedan without missing a beat.

For a moment, Morrigan considered inviting Aedan back to her tent for aftewards. She peered at him. The contentment on his face made her reconsider. She hadn't seen before this expression before- a cross between nostalgia and satisfaction. He seemed...calm. The witch smiled and continued to watch the man chew.

A quiet night wasn't so bad either.

* * *

><p><em>Later that night, after everyone else had retired to their rooms, Aedan sat by the fireplace still examining all his gifts. One noble had given him a rather elaborate drawing set. Aedan basked in the warmth of the fire, and drew. <em>

_A rather crude dragon breathed scribbles onto a stick figure version of Aedan. A smudged army clashed with a horde of monsters. All his family held their three-fingered hands together. _

_Aedan's eyes drooped. His mother might scold him if he stayed up any later. After putting away his drawing kit, Aedan opened the box from Howe. He placed inside a single drawing- him and his favorite uncle, with sloppy words written at the bottom:_

"_Me and Uncle Howe."_

* * *

><p><em>Author Notes<em>

So, just a brief respite from the main plot. A few callbacks here to previous chapters- the box Howe gives him here is the same one Aedan recovers in Chapter 21. Aedan's favorite meat is mentioned earlier as smoked venison (I forget which chapter). Originally I wasn't going to have any sort of flashback story this chapter, but the story of Howe's lockbox fit in too well for me to resist.

ChocolateTruffles: Yeah, it took awhile for them to get together didn't it (about a year and a half since I started writing this lol).

TLMonkey: Decided to forgo using the part title as the ending word this time because I wanted to end on the high note of Aedan and Morrigan, but I think it worked out better this way. Hope you like the arc format!

Guest: Glad that you like the flashbacks

Guest: Part 3's coming next week, the chapter's already done- and shits going down.

As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to review!


	29. Games

**Part 4: Justice**

_Chapter 29: Games_

"No matter what you say Zevran, I will not accept your 'Antivan Massage'."

"That is a topic for later-"

"A topic for never."

"-but I digress. I have a personal question of you, if I may."

Aedan narrowed his eyes. "How personal?"

Despite having travelled with his companions almost six months now, Aedan still had not told any of them of his past. Only Zevran knew by prior research. The elf had kept his mouth shut so far, save for the occasional snide remark or sinister suggestion.

"You know I don't like personal questions."

"Seems a little unfair," said Zevran. "After all, everyone else seems to come to vent to you regarding their personal problems."

"Like what?" scoffed Aedan.

"Wynne's whole 'I'm an abomination' thing, Sten butchering an entire innocent family, Leliana's past of a bard, and that minor thing of Alistair being heir to the throne."

"I call that a standard week."

Indeed, the past month had been tumultuous. After collapsing on the road, Wynne had revealed her earlier death and subsequent encounter with a Spirit of Faith. A few weeks after, Leliana revealed her past as a bard, and how her former mentor had betrayed her. Of course, then there was Alistair's whole prince business.

"We really can't get anyone normal can we?" Aedan sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn't really want to deal with Zevran. "Fine. One question so you don't start badgering me."

"Then I have a question regarding our future battles."

"Shoot."

"Word of advice. Never say 'shoot' to an assassin. Gets us all jittery. At some point, you plan to heal Arl Eamon and have him call the landsmeet."

"That's the plan."

"And, without a doubt, we will meet Loghain, and his right hand man, in person."

"Probably."

"While eliminating Loghain before we beat him at the landsmeet would be a political setback, Howe is a slippery bastard and will try to kill us. Would it not be in our best interest to kill him first? We can even pin it on one of Loghain's allies and make it a win win situation."

"No."

"It is strange that the deadliest out of all of us is opposed to killing, even his own mortal enemy."

"He deserves to die, no doubt. It's just...do I have the right? The authority?" Aedan clenched his fist, thinking back on past events. Half a year had past, yet at times he could still feel his anger bubbling up inside of him. "I want him to pay for what he did to me, but I also want to clear my family's name. I'm not going to do that unless I bring him through the proper channels, to the courts."

"Warden, the only true justice is the one that's carved out with your own bloodied han-"

Zevran twitched his head right, and an arrow zoomed past his ear.

"Ambush!" yelled Aedan, drawing out his sword and shield.

"Told you it was bad luck to say shoot."

* * *

><p><em>What truly bothered Aedan wasn't the fact that Adair resided in the dungeons beneath the estate. The man had been bound and chained sufficiently. What bothered him is that someone needed to go and feed the man every day. According to his father, the prisoner was his fault anyways, so he needed to take care of him. Nan and the others felt uncomfortable being near such a dangerous criminal, so only Aedan had the nerves to interact with Adair.<em>

_Aedan picked up the platter of food Nan had left on the counter. In contrast to the simple scraps left for Adair, Nan had prepared quite the lavish care package for Teharel and Hijaya. Aedan had visited the two and Jarat several times over the past few weeks, despite his father's new disdain for the elf. Aedan suspected that Nan had a soft spot for that geezer of an elf, considering how well made the food was._

_On his way to the dungeon, Aedan heard a familiar voice bickering with his father. Aedan hugged the wall and tried his best to listen in without being seen._

"_Bryce, we cannot delay this any further. The criminal known as Victor must be handed over to us. It's the law; he's an attempted kingslayer."_

"_Oh I know that Loghian. I also know that according the records, Victor already payed for his crimes; they allegedly tortured him for information, then executed him. And yet, the man is still alive, and until a few weeks ago, ran free and almost killed my children."_

"_This angers me as much as you. I cannot stomach the fact that Maric's attempted killer roamed free whilst the rest of us were fed a lie. Believe me Bryce, I had no part in this."_

"_You're an honorable man, I wouldn't suspect you of a thing, but why are you pushing for this to happen?"_

"_It's not me. The rest of the Landsmeet are clamoring for Victor's public trial and execution."_

"_Do you know who could have arranged for Victor's release?"_

"_I have no idea. The guard is heading an investigation into every major noble that could have done this- including you and me. To think, one of these ungrateful nobles dared to release Victor; who do they think freed this country?"_

_Whilst Loghain and his father bickered, Aedan scrambled for the dungeon doors. Eavesdropping wasn't considered proper, and to be caught by Loghain would embarrass Aedan too much. He made sure to shut the entrance to the dungeon as quietly as possible. _

_Making his way through the dungeon, Aedan couldn't help but feel sorry for the currently sleeping Victor. Granted, he had tried to kill the king, but his decided method of execution perturbed Aedan. For a man's death to be some sort show to be watched didn't sit quite right with Aedan. He didn't quite know if the magnitude of Victor's crime justified the public event._

_At the end of the hallway, greeting him with a sinister smile, was Adair. Aedan avoided eye contact with the man whilst he undid the door lock._

"_Good morning to you."_

_Aedan stayed silent. _

"_I see you're still mad about that 'trying to kill Teharel' bit. That was weeks ago, just let it go."_

"_Shut up and eat." Aedan stuffed the bread loaf into Adair's mouth. He neglected to segment it, so Adair stayed silent whilst he slowly whittled the bread down in his mouth. After a few moments, Aedan snarled, "You deserve to rot in prison for what you did."_

"_And what did I do? I roughed up a few guards and maimed an elf. Sounds like a standard petty crook to me; they might give me a month or so." Adair rolled his eyes up in thought and smiled. "Well, I did kill a bunch of crooks getting into D's hideout, so hell, the crown might even get rid of my sentence, maybe even give me a medal."_

"_Shut up."_

"_But what I deserve...hmm. For what I've done before, by some standards of justice I deserve to be put to death." Adair grimaced. "By those standards, Teharel should also be put to death."_

"_Teharel's not like that."_

"_What you don't know about Teharel could fill a book. Literally. I assume that you've taken Teharel's oh so precious intel."_

_Aedan needed to be careful. He paused before answering, "No. I handed it over to the Fereldan government."_

_The bound man tilted his head and sneered nastily. "Look at you, thinking you can lie to me. I can see it in your expressions that you have it. You seem like a shrew young lad- you know exactly what will happen if me, Victor, or that intel gets handed over to the Fereldan government."_

_Finally Aedan faced towards the man. "What's your game here, Adair?"_

"_Perhaps I'm just taking a little vacation. I reckon I could break out of these restraints if I really tried."_

_Aedan sneered. "If you're so strong, why didn't they send you to kill King Maric instead of-"_

_His eyes widened at his sudden realization. _

_They had to have known how strong Victor was. I, who hadn't even been trained by Teharel yet, managed to take him down. If Adair had done it none of us would have had a chance. They sent Victor knowing that he'd probably fail._

_Adair smiled knowingly. The gesture sent a chill down Aedan's spine and he unconsciously took a step back._

"_Little Cousland, I think it's only fair that since you're giving me room and board, I pay you back with seem a good kid, willing to stick up for his friends." _

_Still that smile persisted. Aedan tried his best to control his breathing, to make it look like he still held control. And yet, although Adair had been bound by chains and leather, Aedan still felt like the man controlled the very room. "Didn't think a man like you had values," he said with a false chuckle._

"_Every man has his values. Don't be stupid. And it because I believe you're someone worth saving, that I'm going to give you a warning."_

_Although Adair had been smiling and joking before, now he bore a darkened demeanor. "You best be careful. I may be your deadliest enemy, but I'm certainly not your worst. "_

* * *

><p>Aedan disliked entering abandoned warehouses in Denerim at night.<p>

After the ambush, the group had discovered that Leliana's former mentor, Marjolaine, had sent the assassins. The very same woman who framed Leliana and had her tortured and almost killed. Using information the beaten enemies, Leliana had tracked down Marjolaine's hideout to a certain seedy district in Denerim. Only her, Aedan, and Zevran had entered, with the rest keeping watch outside.

What bothered Aedan the most was the way Leliana had asked for his help. "I...I need to settle this. Please," she had said to him, looking quite pained. Leliana had always seemed wistful ever since she left the Chantry, but now she truly looked sad.

His eyes darted around for the ambush that Marjolaine had no doubt planned. He spotted several traps by the hallways doors, and heavily armed guards surrounded the group.

"Move aside dogs." The voice had a certain grace and even appealing tone, unlike Isolde's shrill shrieks. Two guards side-stepped to reveal a woman clad in a traditional Orlesian dress. Her frills seemed unfit for battle, but Aedan knew looks could be deceiving.

Marjolaine had on a familiar smile. That same knowing smile of Adair's that always mocked him. Instead of fear, Aedan's face twisted into an annoyed expression. He tired of getting pulled around by the generation before him.

"What terrible friends you have Leliana," chided Marjolaine." Look at that expression, like a dog. No manners. Just like all Fereldans, he smells like a dog too."

Aedan smiled back at her. He too had been taught that special sour smile. "Fuck off," he chuckled. The edge of Marjolaine's smile wavered.

"What do you want Majorlaine? Why did you come back?" Leliana trembled with emotion. Aedan had never seen the woman get so worked up.

"Because of you Leliana. Because you know my secrets." The woman began to pace back and forth. Aedan stood on edge, his hand itching for his sword. "Did you think I would not watch? I wondered what you were doing in that little Chantry of yours, playing the good girl. You sent no communications, and I thought you had given up. Then you joined up with this man."

Her eyes fell upon Aedan.

"Do not think your exploits have not reached my ears."

Aedan shrugged and made a lackadaisical expression. "I'm just your simple run of the mill Warden."

Marjolaine's smile dissipated. "I took note of you before that." After one last cold glare, Marjolaine turned back to Leliana with that wretched smile. " My little Leliana, you're up to something, and I will not let the secrets in your head take me down."

"You think that I'm trying to take you down? I'm done with you Marjolaine. Done with all of this."

Zevran placed his hand on Leliana's shoulder. "Leliana. You know she'll never stop chasing you."

_Are they-_

The two looked sideways at Aedan. Zevran had on his usual look of determination, however Leliana's eyes filled with a slight sadness. Aedan couldn't surmise more than that, for in that brief moment while their eyes met, all three drew their weapons.

The other two ducked behind Aedan and his shield while a volley of arrows rained down on them. Aedan winced as several grazed his legs. Soldiers rushed at them from all angles. Surrounded, Leliana flipped through the air over their heads, and barreled towards Marjolaine. Whilst Aedan took care of the heavy-hitters, Leliana dueled Marjolaine in a fight of daggers and high-kicks. Zevran slithered over to the mages and dodged their fireballs left and right. Closer and closer the elf got, until in a blink of an eye his blade sunk into their backs.

Beset from all side, Aedan threw down a smoke bomb. The vial shattered and noxious grey smoke poured out. He battered the men's heads with his shield and sliced at their legs. Although their random, frenzied blows occasionally hit him, the group of soldiers one by one fell coughing and bleeding to Aedan's rampage, albeit still alive.

The warden winced at the fresh gashes on his arm; fighting non-lethally took a lot of effort, and he took a lot more blows. Aedan looked over at Leliana to see her matching Marjolaine in combat. The two combined into one blur of limbs and steel. Right as Aedan ran over to go help, Leliana kicked Marjolaine against the wall, and retreated backwards. She pulled a throwing knife out of her hand and raised it.

Everything slowed.

Leliana's blade hesitated. In that split second, her former mentor leaped forward. Aedan could see it. The graceful arc of a hidden wrist blade gliding towards Leliana's heart. It seemed so natural, almost as if Majorlaine was dancing.

He didn't even think. The entirety of his being jerked forward, an unnatural force in comparison to Marjolaine's refined attacks.

He felt a slight resistance as the edge of his sword pierced her chest. He glanced at the woman's face; she looked just as shocked as him. Aedan's momentum carried the two right into the wooden wall. He could hear the splintering of wood as his sword pierced the wall.

His fingers felt numb. His stomach churned. Marjolaine's blood trickled down from her mouth. He tried his best not to shake as he pulled his sword out. The woman's body slumped down against the wall. Her blood painted his sword dark scarlet.

"You've gotten soft Leliana. Had to have this boy here do your dirty work," sputtered Marjolaine. Her breathing slowed. The light began to fade from her eyes. Yet she still had on that wretched smile.

A tear ran down Leliana's cheek. Her eyes watered. She knelt down and held her former lover's, her former's teacher's, and former enemy's hand in her own. "I...Marjolaine...why couldn't you have just stopped? Why couldn't you have let me live my life?" She squeezed a little tighter.

"Because I knew you'd come to kill me. The game we played never ends Leliana." With those last venomous words, Marjolaine gasped one last time. The scarlet stain had spread far on her fine dress. Her body twitched, then fell limp. Neither Aedan nor Leliana spoke. The only noise was from Aedan's sword, as Marjolaine's blood dripped from it's edge.

* * *

><p><em>Author Notes<em>

ChocolateTruffles: With last chapter, I didn't want Aedan to be too angst-ridden, so I did leave out a lot of his thoughts on that on purpose; kudos on noticing. The next few chapters Howe's betrayal will weigh more heavily on Aedan's mind though (albeit not too angsty. I don't like too angsty).

TLMonkey: Alright, this time I went through and I'm pretty sure I have no/few errors. If I do, I give you permission to bring down the hammer of shame upon me and call me out on it. Glad you like the humor writing; I always enjoyed party dynamics, so I really like writing the witty parts.

MegaKilo69: Welcome to reading the story, hope you enjoy!

JordanMathias: Glad you find the beginning interesting! Hopefully I've gotten better over time and the latter chapters are even better.

Guest: Well, here's the next update. I'm staying pretty well on schedule, no?


	30. Prices

**Part 4: Justice**

_Chapter 30: Prices_

Darkness enveloped him. It devoured his limbs and creeped at the edge of his vision..

Where was he? Aedan struggled through the darkness about him, like through thick, swampy water.

"Aedan."

Aedan's mind reacted at once; his brain sent the signal to turn around and draw his sword. Yet his body sluggishly could only turn in a futile effort. After far too long, he finally faced that voice.

Marjolaine stared at him, blood streaming from her chest. Her fine Orlesian dress contrasted with the messy stain that dripped down her skirt. "That wasn't a very nice thing you did," she cooed. Her fingers traced the line of blood. "Leliana won't be pleased."

"I thought I taught you better Aedan," whispered his mother from behind, "we're not brutes. We're Couslands. We follow the law, not go out and be vigilantes."

"I didn't mean to!" he shouted. Aedan turned around again to see his mother frowning at him, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to," he whispered a little quieter.

"Then you should have been stronger. Faster. The you could have easily taken her in." Her words stung, and Aedan couldn't meet her stern gaze.

A chuckle arose from the dark. "It's okay son. You did what you had to."

Aedan turned to the familiar voice. His father stood before him, as happy and vibrant as Aedan remembered from his youth."Really? It's okay Father?"

"Of course." Bryce Cousland placed his hands on Aedan's shoulders and warmly smiled. Aedan felt at ease and breathed easier.

"No more fear Aedan." His father's tone darkened. "It's time to stop half-assing this job of yours." Bryce's fingers pierced the flesh of Aedan's shoulder..Warm blood spilled down his shirt. Aedan howled and struggled from his father's hold. His fingers only dug in deeper. Slowly from the bog of darkness the bodies of his other family members began to rise. Fergus, Oren, Oriana, and Nan all rose from behind the grim visage of his parents. They began to close in around him, staring at him with accusing eyes.

"What- what are you-"

"You really think you can protect anyone like this?" whispered his father. The man's face rotted and peeled. Blood trickled from a gash on his neck and wounds on his side. Empty eye sockets peered at him. Slowly, the scene shifted into what the Sloth Demon had shown him in the Fade. The decrepit dead clawed at Aedan and dragged him to the black depths. Aedan flailed as the specters of his past shouted at him.

"You could have saved us-"

"Wasting our sacrifice-"

"I was only eigh-"

Their words stung more than any sword ever could. "A man can only protect so many things," echoed Bryce as the darkness swallowed Aedan, " So stop protecting your enemies."

* * *

><p>Aedan shot up out of his bedroll. He gasped for air and patted himself for wounds. When he found none, he slumped back onto the ground. He closed his eyes, yet he knew doing so was futile. Any urge he had to sleep had dissipated. Frustrated, Aedan threw on his ragged shirt and walked out to the campfire. Only Zevran sat by the flames; Alistair was supposed to be on guard duty as well, but Aedan could hear the templar snoring soundly from his own tent. Aedan made a mental note to chide Alistair on that.<p>

"Can't sleep?" slithered Zevran. The elf had an uncanny ability to get under Aedan's skin.

"How can you tell?" asked Aedan, rubbing his eyes.

"Expression. The bags under the eyes. The sweat on your forehead." Zevran smiled, "Granted you look almost just like this after your nightly sessions with the witch. You're just smiling more then."

Aedan sat in front of the fire and began to chew on his jerky.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No," stated Aedan plainly, in a manner quite reminiscent to his qunari companion. He chewed and mulled over his thoughts.

His killing of Marjolaine had been instinctive and impulsive. He knew that he had done the right thing to save Leliana, but Marjolaine's death still left Aedan feeling sick. He wasn't used to the feel of his sword piercing flesh.

Had Howe decision been as impulsive? Had the allure of money and power made the man snap and betray his friends? How about Loghain? It still baffled Aedan, how Loghain could have left Cailan, his best friend Maric's son, to die. Yet part of Aedan understood. Loghain had made a hard choice: risk losing all of Fereldan's troops, or die with his king with honor.

Aedan tried his best not to think about it the decisions he too would one day have to make. He asked aloud, "Does it get easier?"

Zevran looked into the distance wistfully. "Over time. Your hands stop trembling. You don't feel numb afterwards. There are even those that come to enjoy the thrill."

"Like you?"

"I was brought up in killing from a young age on the streets of Antiva. Not all of us had such a pampered lifestyle Warden. I never really understood the significance of killing until I was older. By then, sticking daggers in people was as natural as tying my shoes." Zevran puffed his chest out proudly. It confused Aedan that someone would take such pride in such a childhood, yet Aedan reminded himself that not all were as lucky as him.

"I'm not naive." Aedan tore off the last piece of his jerky and stuffed it into his mouth. "I know that I'm going to have to kill people. I had just hoped that I could do it only when necessary- when it's the last option."

Zevran lay back on the wooden log and stared at the stars. "The last option isn't necessarily the best option. What would you have done if you let Marjolaine live? You'd hand her over to the Fereldan government on what charges? She covered her tracks; she had no evidence of crimes. If you just let her go, she'd hunt down Leliana again. My advice Warden? Let go of the guilt."

"It's not a matter of survival," Aedan muttered, "It's a matter of right and wrong, of justice."

"Justice?"

"I used to think that the law was absolute. Yet unjust laws exist in this world. A long time ago, a king came into power, and told his serfs- 'This is the justice of the land.' But were those laws justice because of they truly were so, or because the king had the might to claim them as such? Was he a just man or a tyrant?"

Aedan continued to stoke the fire. He paused briefly, staring into the burning embers. Zevran too stayed silent.

"If you just live following another's code, then it's a shallow justice. You just assume it's right, but you don't actually know. You're just an empty husk following orders. Only when you've thought your code over and made it your own can you act with justice. And I chose my actions: I killed Marjolaine. So...it just got me thinking. That's all."

"It's just death. The more you think about it, the worse off you'll be."

Aedan looked down and leaned on his knees. "That's the point. I need to think about it. I'm supposed be a Grey Warden. I'm supposed to be protecting people. If I don't anchor myself to a code, to justice, then I'll lose sight of who I am and what I'm fighting for. I'll end up sacrificing too much: innocents, my friends, or myself. like Howe or Loghain. If that means I lose sleep over it, then I'll pay that price."

Aedan looked over his bloodied sword and whispered, "I can't forget the value of a human life."

It was silent awhile before Zevran answered solemnly, "The Crows did not pay me to think Warden. Only to kill. I don't really know what to say to that." Zevran offered a dirty rag to Aedan, motioning to his sword. Marjolaine's blood had begun to coagulate upon the blade. Aedan took the rag and wiped down his sword. Zevran yawned as he began to drift off to sleep.

"Be careful not to let your thinking dull your blade. I see such potential in the way you fight. All your life you've held back your blows and avoided vital points. That sort of style takes a high degree of self-control. If you just went all out, imagine-"

The assassin's last words trailed off. Sleep took the elf. Zevran mumbled a few last words in his slumber and shivered. Aedan draped a blanket over the elf. After that, he sat awake by the fire, imagining.

* * *

><p>"<em>What do you mean Victor was a decoy?"<em>

_Teharel silently cursed as his crutch hit the table leg. The elf had not adjusted well to life as a cripple. Hijaya chided him and moved the table a bit to the right and let him pass._

"_Let's be honest. The guy seems a bit like a dolt. I smashed him once in the face with my shield and the guy goes down. One, who lets themselves get hit in the face with a shi-"_

_Teharel playfully smacked Aedan in the face with a loaf of bread. "You're right, anybody who gets hit in the face with a shield is probably an idiot. Imagine if they got hit in the face with bread- they could never live it down." The elf grinned maliciously. Aedan grumbled at his own folly, but was glad Teharel wasn't too down. A limited life expectancy failed to dampen Teharel's spirit. Since his departure from Aedan's employment, Teharel had rejoined his daughter with her gardening business. Hijaya had procured a small booth in the Denerim Market for her goods, and the business experienced minor success. During the day she'd tend to the booth while Teharel managed the plants back at home._

_Occasionally, Aedan visited to check up and for Teharel to critique his sword-fighting form. Although Teharel could no longer spar with Aedan, the elf still had a wealth of knowledge to share with Aedan._

_Today, however, was the first time Aedan had brought the Adair business up since the incident. _

"_Two, they sent him into the tournament with dozens of highly skilled knights and Teyrn Loghain against him. That's a suicide mission. They never intended him to actually kill the king. The question is...why fake an assassination?"_

""_Why indeed..."muttered Teharel, "I doubt that Victor was some sort of distraction to steal something from Bann Abelard's manor. After all, if they could sneak in several people under the guises of others, they could easily steal whatever they wanted."_

"_I think I'll wait outside. I don't want the baby to hear words like assassination and suicide mission," laughed Hijaya tersely. The elven woman gathered some gardening tools and headed outside, but not before handing Aedan a platter of something wrapped in leaves. "Try some. They're very good."_

_Aedan popped one into his mouth and chewed. The sweet, chewy center mixed with tiny bits of savoury meat. The leaves added a small minty aftertaste. Aedan reached for another, but found that Teharel had already cleaned the plate off. The young man scowled at the elf with stuffed cheeks. After Teharel had finished chewing, he peered over at his daughter and sighed._

"_Truth be told, I don't think Hijaya's entirely comfortable with all this assassin with her and Jarat's baby on the way, she's even less so."_

"_You did give her quite a scare."_

"_Well, I guess it's my own fault for getting into this business anyways."_

_Since his visit with Adait, a question had been on Aedan's mind. Finally, Aedan found the courage to ask of Teharel,"Why...did you ever get involved with that group anyways. Didn't you think that what you were doing was..."_

_He trailed off, not wanting to offend the elderly elf. For a minute, the elf gazed off for a minute and ignored the question. Finally, he answered: "Did I think it was wrong? It's complicated." He leaned back in his chair and began his tale:_

"_I needed the money. I had no practical market skills to speak of. So I took on odd jobs: security, third party merc groups, etc. Not particularly savory jobs, but I had a child to feed. Eventually, the nature of employers landed me in jail after a job gone south. Some hooded men found me in a cell, asking me if I wanted to be free. I begged them to let me out so I could take care of my daughter." _

"_And so they leaned opened the gate and handed me the most deadly sword I had ever seen. They told me that instead of helping criminals, I could help protect the peace, that I could help protect Hijaya. They said that some people needed to be eliminated to maintain the new peace after Maric's rise to the throne."_

"_They told me...one hundred deaths so that thousands more could live in peace. Thousands dead so that nations could live in peace. Sometimes I wondered if one day they'd make us kill a nation to save the world."_

"_And so I took on their assignments. We were a good team. Skilled, motivated, and full of bravado. While what we did was...debatable, our employers would send us a little something after each mission. They sent us a package, detailing how the mission had helped maintain peace, or who we had saved. They included addresses and names, so that we could go see it for ourselves."_

"_But all that killing...all that blood. It gets to you. And it got to Adair first. He was the first one to have doubts about what we were doing. He said that we couldn't just kill innocents to save other people, that we didn't have the right. He said that we had forgotten what a human life was worth."_

"_Adair tried to stop us after we burned down a village. We took him down, gave him to the authorities. The higher ups said that it was a good thing; now they had a scapegoat to pin all our crimes on then execute."_

"_After that...I just felt sick whenever I plunged my sword into others on missions. Like I was shaving off bits of my soul. Adair's words had gotten to me."_

"_So I quit. I promised never to tell a soul about what we did. I knew they had leverage on me; they could come after Hijaya anytime they wanted to. I kept all my money from missions and saved it, to make sure I could take care of Hijaya no matter what."_

_Teharel stared out the window, the sun beating down on both him and Aedan._

"_And that's what I don't get. Why is the best of us, Adair, doing all this?"_

* * *

><p><em>Despite all their brainstorming, Adair's move regarding Victor had stumped Aedan and Teharel. Without enough clues, the two had reached the end of their rope.<em>

_A guardsmen stood in front of the gates, rather wearily complaining, "I said I have urgent business from the guard- can you just let me in?" He tugged at his hair in frustration._

"_I'm sorry, but none of the Couslands are h- oh Aedan, there you are." Nan waved at him from the estate gates. "This guard is looking for one of your family."_

"_Actually, I'm specifically looking for him." __The guard turned around to reveal a familiar face._

_Aedan shook the man's hand briskly. "Kylon, how are you?" he said. Aedan hadn't seen him since the Adair incident. The two entered the estate and made their way to the living room._

"_Quite well, considering I got credit for Adair's capture. My superiors were pleased as punch and I got a nice little raise." The constable plopped down on at Aedan's living room table and peered at the portraits around the room._

"_I get the feeling that you're not here for biscuits and tea."_

"_No I'm not. The crown's issued an order to the Denerim city guards: to begin investigating any potential threats to the crown among the nobles. The fact that the king's assassin was released by some unknown person has shaken them up."_

"_And you're here because?"_

"_Obviously, your father being the Teyrn of Highever, second only to the king, is near the top of the list. I don't suspect a thing from him, but the investigation had been ordered to be extensive. The fact that your family requested permission of Adair's custody has only further aggravated things."_

"_So you're here to investigate?"_

"_Officially, yes. I'm going to need a full account statement of your treasury and any sort of transactions your family's carried out. Obviously, if you can't find everything, I really don't care. Nobody really suspects your family; it's just a thorough investigation._

"_And unofficially?"_

_"I want you're help," stated Kylon plainly. He leaned forward and addressed Aedan very business-like_. "_There are places that I cannot go, and information that I cannot get. Nobles are well protected by bureaucracy. There's a limit to how much I can investigate. You, however, are in the unique situation of being situated in the eye of the storm; talking and gaining access to nobles shouldn't be too hard for a Cousland."_

"_Why do people keep asking me to help them do dangerous things?" muttered Aedan beneath his breath, "This better not become a regular thing." _

"_Don't be crass. I know that you want to know who's behind all this assassin business just as much as I do. I'd give you access to the guard's evidence vaults and our written archives, as well as cooperating with you whenever needed."_

_Aedan crossed his arms, giving Kylon a stare. "I'm flattered, but isn't this doing me more of a favor than actually doing what's best for the case? There's probably better people to talk to about this- someone like Loghain or my father."_

"_In my opinion, the people who do the best work are personally invested in the case. I couldn't think of someone more invested than you. After all; the crooks are downstairs in your pantry and were after your friend."_

"_I don't think pantry is the right word; though it does seem to house a couple of nuts," chuckled Aedan, looking to Kylon to see if his joke got a rise out of him. Kylon stared back unamused. Aedan coughed into his hand and stared at a rather interesting speck of dust._

"_Well?" asked Kylon._

_Aedan didn't need to weigh the options. This threat needed to be dealt with; for his own safety, Teharel's, and both their families. "Where do we start?" Aedan replied. _

_The guardsmen nodded in approval and pulled several parchments from his pack. "We've got a preliminary list of nobles to investigate. We've managed to narrow it down and eliminate those who are simply involved in petty crimes and bribery. We've found that the nobles on this list have been moving large sums of money. Granted, none of the higher nobles like your father and Loghain are on this list, but this sort of behavior is suspicious for any sort of noble."_

_Aedan thumbed through the list. Some of the names he recognized from dinner parties and meet-ups. No doubt that however was behind Adair and Victor had heard of their capture. If Aedan wanted to find out who it was, he and Kylon had to act fast before the perpetrator covered their tracks and the trail went cold._

"_We need to get all of these people together, in an environment where they won't be suspicious we're interrogating them."_

_The wild look across Aedan's face irked Kylon. Aedan rubbed his chin and grinned. _

"_Up for a little party Kylon?"_

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

And we're back! Sorry about the long wait, it's just been one thing after another (work, university, writer's block). I'm hoping to generate a bit of backlog in the next few days while I've got the motivation, so weekly chapters should resume for now.

**ChocolateTruffle**s: A lot of this story started out as unanswered questions I had about the warden's journey actually: where'd he learn to fight, how he felt about being thrust into a new world, etc. Nothing on Leliana and Aedan in this chapter, but you'll see what happens next chapter.

**Guest**: Glad you enjoyed the chapter.

**Guest**: This is always how I envisioned my main playthrough for DAO as well. Hope you enjoy!

**Guest**: Sorry about the wait, but here's the chapter!

Also, a quick question I'd like to get feedback on: I generally try to aim for 3000 words each time for each chapter, but sometimes I can't find it in myself to find enough story elements that make sense together to make it that long, and I end up getting unmotivated and putting off writing for a long time (leading to the sporadic breaks you've seen). I'm thinking of having occasional shorter chapters in order to power myself through these periods and at least give you guys something (I feel bad leaving people hanging for months at a time). If anyone has an opinion on this, let me know.

As always, feel free to review and leave constructive criticism. Thanks for reading!


	31. Ears

**Part 4: Justice**

_Chapter 31: Ears_

From nowhere, Leliana plopped down besides Aedan at the campfire. This marked the first time Leliana had interacted with Aedan since the Marjolaine incident. The warden scratched his forehead, at a loss for what to say. For awhile the pair stayed silent, until Aedan mustered the courage to utter, "Leliana-"

Leliana smiled sadly and interrupted, "It's okay. She deserved it. She has wronged not only me, but others as well. She would have killed me at that moment if you didn't kill her." Despite her reassurances, Aedan could see that the incident had shaken her up; her smile still felt a bit terse.

"You didn't want her to die though."

She gazed a little bit past Aedan into the distance."Part of me wishes that we could have parted differently, or perhaps never at all. I remember when I could run from rooftop to rooftop, reveling in the life of a bard."

The two sat quietly. Aedan found no comforting words. He looked over to see her contemplating something whilst she played with the hem of her shirt.

"Have you ever...thought about what your life would be like if you weren't a Grey Warden?" whispered Leliana."What you could have had?"

"I...Why ask me that?"

"I don't know." she said and laughed at her own question, "Sometimes I feel like you're too good at what you do.."

"Isn't that a good thing?" laughed Aedan weakly,

"You do so many difficult things, yet I can't seem to see it wear away at you."

Aedan mulled over her words. That's wasn't a good thing?

"You're only human though. And yet I have to keep reminding myself of that. We all rely on you so much that we forget about that." Leliana reached over and held Aedan's hands in her own."It's okay to show a little weakness." Leliana squeezed slightly. Her soft skin contrasted with her dagger callouses.

For a few seconds, they stayed like that, until Aedan realized what was happening. Startled, Aedan shot up and withdrew his hand."Don't know what you're talking about. Who the hell do you think I am? I'm a Grey Warden, fierce, strong, and invincible!" he stammered.

Aedan pounded his fist against his chest and mustered up the biggest grin he could. He winced standing up. One of Marjolaine's mercenaries had sliced him good in the leg. He hoped Leliana didn't notice, but a giggle escaped her and indicated otherwise..

"Another time then." Leliana waved herself off and retreated to her own tent. Aedan kept his grin until she had vacated. He eased himself back into his seat whilst massaging his leg wound. Perhaps if he hadn't been so concerned in not killing the mercenaries, this wouldn't have happened. What Zevran said the earlier night irked him: how much better he could be if he stopped holding back his blade.

"And what was that all about? I heard some fool shouting something about being fierce and invincible. I half-expected to see Alistair, and yet lo behold twas you." Aedan turned around to see his favorite mage in his least favorite mood. Morrigan glared at him with arms crossed. Her eyes darted to his hands, then back at Aedan."Perhaps his idiocy is now contagious."

Aedan turned back around, smiling. "Come to spend time with me? I'm touched."

Morrigan's face flushed. "I just felt like being awake. That's all." She sat down next to him and jabbed her hands out over the orange flame.

"Alright," said Aedan, still wary of impending anger. Barely a whisper, but still somewhat bitter, came Morrigan's voice: "I do not like to share."

Aedan dropped the stick. He wasn't quite sure if he heard her right. "What?"

"Nothing." Morrigan, her arms still crossed, avoided Aedan's face and looked up at the night sky. Her foot tapped against the ground. A tight-lipped frown across her face sealed her words.

_Was she watching Leliana and I?_

"I heard you. Is this about-"

"No, it's not," she asserted. Silence ensued. Aedan stared in disbelief before grumbling, "Alright then." A few more minutes passed before Morrigan muttered. "If you have problems, you can talk to me about them."

_So she did eavesdrop. _

"What brought this up?" he stated skeptically. Aedan raised his eyebrow and eyed her with suspicion. He doubted that Morrigan would dare admit her eavesdropping.

"You have helped me in the past." She brushed aside a stray lock of dark hair and avoided eye contact. "Tis only fair, after all, you are not as emotionally well rounded as me. It seems you need people to hold your hand."

"Pretty sure I'm more in control of my emotions then you."

Morrigan whipped around. She stared at him for a few seconds in disbelief, before she covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Unamused, Aedan's smile soured.

"Shhhh. No need to lash out," cooed Morrigan. She pressed her finger to Aedan's lips, which certainly surprised him. This seemed like the kind of joke Alistair would make. Maybe his humor really was contagious.

"I'm serious," said Aedan.

"And I believe you." Morrigan nodded up and down, still stifling her giggles."Coming from the man who lets teary-eyed innocents sway his decision making, in and out of battle. Please sir, my village is under attack, save us!".

Aedan glared back."This coming from the woman who's jealous."

Morrigan's smile vanished faster than Aedan could react. She focused an unholy stare at Aedan."Excuse me?" Her teeth ground together ever so slightly.

"You heard me." Aedan leaned forward and smirked at Morrigan's irritation. Morrigan spelt out her next sentence with punctuations of rage. "Choose. Your. Next. Words. Carefully."

"You're also a very angry person," teased Aedan.

Usually Morrigan would storm off in a huff, but something about Aedan's words infuriated her in a different way. Her hand shot out and twisted his ear. "Owowow!"

Morrigan huffed in satisfaction at his pained cries. Glaring at her, Aedan tugged on her wrist. Morrigan stumbled onto his chest and their limbs intertwined. Morrigan's face hovered above Aedan's smug expression.

"Granted, I like it when you're angry." He tightened his arm around her waist. Aedan wondered if she might set him on fire, judging by her clenched teeth and striking hand raised above her head. He could feel Morrigan's hot angry breath and her racing heartbeat against his chest.

Morrigan seethed for a few moments and glared into his eyes, before plunging in for the kiss. For a few heated moments, the two forgot their surroundings. Morrigan's body relaxed and melded onto Aedan's. Their lips, angry and fevered, fought whilst their tongues danced with one another. Caught up in their passion, the two neglected to breathe. Aedan pulled back for breath. Morrigan panted, letting her burning forehead rest on Aedan's. Her eyes fell on his hand. Her chest tightened at the memory of Leliana holding it. Before either could catch their breath, Morrigan wordlessly intertwined her fingers with Aedan's and dragged him to her tent.

* * *

><p><em>"Remind me...why aren't we throwing this at your place?"<em>

_Indeed, the banquet they currently stood in didn't belong to the Couslands, but another well-known Bann, Alfstanna. She had spared no expense for her birthday today. Lavish tapestries lined her estate's wall, imported straight from Orlais. At the center Bann Alfstanna mingled with her guests, with everyone coming to give her best wishes. Servants navigated the sea of nobles, offering little hordeuvres and spouting niceties. Aedan grabbed a little shrimp-biscuit combo off of one of the plates as they passed by and stuffed it into his mouth._

_"One," Aedan sputtered through his food, "my parents would never allow me to throw anything, ever. Two, if the host of the party all of a sudden starts asking suspected traitors to the crown a bunch of suspicious questions, they're going to smell what's up. We need to seem like ordinary party-goers. All the nobles from your list are here anyways." He savored the crisp buttery biscuit blending with the shrimp's flavor, and made a mental note to congratulate Bann Alfstanna. She was one of the nobles whose company he enjoyed. The feeling had been mutual apparently, as he had received an invitation for the event. From this invitation, Aedan forged copies and send them to the nobles on Kylon's list. _

_"And why am I here?" Hijaya turned to Aedan, who stretched out her dirtied apron. She scowled at the stains left on it. Aedan had arranged for her to join the kitchen staff for the night by bribing one of the staff. _

_"We need to attack this from three angles: the nobles, their security, and their servants. Kylon, I need you to talk to the guards. All the nobles bring at least one of their own for protection. See what you can get out of them. Bond over badmouthing your employers or something. Hijaya, I need someone to get in with the servants and see if their employers are up to something. Ask if anybody suspicious has been by their castles, or large troops movements. Anything."_

_"And let me guess, You get to drink all the fancy wine and mingle with the nobles. What a hard knock life." Kylon plucked a glass from a neighboring waiter, as it might be the only one he'd get that night._

_"If only Kylon. While the rest of the nobles get hammered, I'm going to be sipping this little glass of grape juice. Sobriety helps give you one over on buzzed people." He raised his glass to Kylon and Hijaya and sipped. He made sure not to spill over his formal wear, which had cleaned just for this occasion. His parent had imported the outfit straight from Antiva, and he rather liked it. While many chose to go with lush and elaborate designs from Orlais, Aedan enjoyed the understated designs and simple cuts of Antiva._

_"And you're sure this will help my father?" Hijaya nervously eyed the nobles surrounding them. Some of the nobles eyed her with disdain, wondering what business a kitchen elf had on the main floor._

_"It's the best lead we have, Hijaya," reassured Aedan, gently patting her on the arm. "If you're uncomfortable, you can always leave. I'll find another way."_

_"It's alright. I'm just not sure being around all these...humans." Hijaya quickly turned back to Aedan, flustered and waving her hands in front of her. "No offense! It's just not everyone is quite as amicable to us as you." She did a slight bow and scampered along the wall to the other side of the main hall, the gazes of the nobles overpowering her composure._

_"I'm surprised that a noble boy like you has elvish friends." Kylon scanned for some guards to converse with. "I expected you to be a bit more...snobbish, to be honest."_

_Aedan laughed half-heartedly and scratched his forehead."Well, I wasn't exactly the most tolerant child. I used to throw out words like 'knife-ear' and insult the servants. One day, my mother heard me and smacked me on the head. She told me 'during the Fereldan uprising, elves rose up and fought alongside everyone else for Fereldan's freedom. They've bled just as much for this country.'"_

_"And that changed your mind? Just like that?"_

_"Of course not." Aedan sipped his drink and eyed a pretty daughter of a noble passing by. "After that I went and kicked an elvish servant we had in the balls. But eventually, I matured a little bit and saw what my mother tried to drill into my head. They're just like us. They laugh. They cry."_

_He peered over the crowd at Hijaya, who carefully covered her stomach when a nearby waiter zoomed by her. Her stomach did not yet bulge from her pregnancy. He smiled at her concern for her unborn child. She hastily opened the kitchen door and scurried inside._

_"They have families, just like me." Aedan downed the last of his glass and set it down on the nearby table._

_"Good to see your parents did at least one thing right."_

_"What do you mean 'one thing'?"_

_"Could've taught you to stay out of trouble."_

* * *

><p>"And why might it be in such a chipper mood today Warden." Shale swatted at a sparrow in the sky. It flew away and perched among one of the many trees of the Brecilian Forest.<p>

Aedan beamed. Perhaps the golem was actually warming up to him. "Well thanks for asking Sha-"

"I am not actually asking, Twas sarcastic, and a follow-in to me asking it to keeps it's acts of ….I'm not whether to call it affection or agression... inside of it's tent. Please be aware that I am awake at all times."

"Sorry about that, won't happen again, Shale." He glanced over at Morrigan, whose attention had been preoccupied by the lush scenery of the forest.

_Quite different from her swamp. Hope she enjoys it._

He couldn't help but smile when looking at her. Aedan found his time with Morrigan to be fun, both in and out of the tent. Even their arguments.

"Hmph. The stupid grin on your face suggest otherwise." Whilst Aedan hid his reddened expression, Shale stomped over to where Gregory was barking up a tree. Shale took one step, and the sound of a trigger shot through the air. A net pulled up from beneath Shale's foot. Ordinarily, such a net would surround it's target and tangle it within it's grasp. Shale's mass however pinned the net down. "An ambush. Hurrah," drawled Shale. It shook the net from it's foot and sighed.

"Halt traveler!" A elven archer clad in intricate, woven leather armor strode from behind the trees. Her bow had been drawn. Her arrow now pointed directly at Aedan's forehead. An armada of elves perched in the trees all drew out their bows, each one pointing at a different member of Aedan's troupe.

"Wow. People really love us," sighed Alistair, shoulders slumped. The elfs, taken aback by his lack of fear, exchanged glances with one another.

"Our clan lies ahead, and I would not have you enter the premises." The woman let out a low growl as Aedan raised his hands and smiled. In as friendly and gentle a tone he could, he said, "We were actually looking for the Dalish."

"Wipe that sly smile from your face shemlen," spat back the elf, stepping forwards. Her eyes narrowed. She drew her arrow further back.

"Sly?"

"We are taught that men of weaponry do not compare to those who are sly like the Dread Wolf."

Aedan eliminated his smile and shot his gaze upon the leader in front of him. He had to be careful to focus his gaze and not look at the elves in the trees, lest they think he was assessing the battle situation. Still, out of the corner of his eye he marked down all their positions in his head.

"We're Grey Wardens," he stated matter of factly, exchanging his friendly tone for one more business like. "We're here on matter of the Blight."

"A likely story. You seem more a pack of mercenaries. Come to pray on our wounded, have you?" The elf tightened her grip on her drawstring. Wary of danger, Aedan ground his heel into the ground, signaling Morrigan. The witch began focusing her power in her hands, in case she needed to deflect arrows from everyone.

"All we wish to do is talk to your leader. Feel free to keep your arrows on us. We're not going to cause trouble."

The elf pondered Aedan's request. Another warrior sprinted to her and whispered in her ear. After awhile, the leader signaled all the archers in the tree, and they all lept down. Like falling leaves, they landed silently. The female elf nodded backwards and backed up to allow Aedan's group passage. Her bow never let up. Her eyes continued to track the group.

The Dalish had erected large woven tents had throughout the forest area. It seemed they had picked a natural clearing, as despite the wide open spaces, Aedan saw no tree stumps indicating cut down trees. He felt the eyes of the elves watching him as he walked through the entrance to the camp. There statues of elven gods stared back at him. Teharel had mentioned the elven pantheon, but Aedan forgotten it: He wasn't much of a religious man.

It felt different then the Alienage with it's chatter and crowded streets. Here, although many elves resided, they all stood scattered throughout the clearing. An elven mother pulled her child away from Aedan's path and held her close. She muttered something under her breath as he passed.

Zathrian stood out amongst the others; whereas his brethren either cowered away or looked at Aedan with anger, the keeper leaned casually against a caravan. When Aedan finally entered hearing range, the elf half-heartedly greeted, "Andaran atish'an stranger-"

Zathrian examined Aedan, and cocked his head in surprise. Aedan too felt minor surprise upon recognizing Zathrian.

"You," they both uttered simultaneously..

"Do you know him Aedan?" asked Alistair,

"Yes, one of my friends, a former Dalish, passed away several years ago. Zathrian's clan was nearby so he came to perform the funeral rites. I'm surprised you remember me, Zathrian."

"It is not often that a human attends the funeral of an elf. It is even less common that they are the ones asked to bury the body. Tis usually a privledge reserved for close family members."

Zathrian conveyed a rather cold look. Aedan had remembered him as cold during Teharel's funeral as well. He couldn't tell whether Zathrian harbored disapproval or simply ambivalence towards him. The keeper spoke calmly and tepidly, reminiscent of older people Aedan had met, yet the keeper didn't seem older than forty.

"It seems fate has crossed our paths yet again. What business do you have with us?"

"I'm a Grey Warden now, and I've come to gather forces to fight the darkspawn." Aedan pulled out one of the ancient treatie. Zathrian held up each of the elven signatures to the light. "I see...and signed by all the clans at an Arlathvhen." Zathrian returned it to Aedan and sighed. "Warden, under any other circumstances, I'd honor this contract, but we simply can't. Our warrior are in no shape to fight right now."

Zathrian pointed him to writhing bodies of their warriors. The lay bloodied on strechers, trying their best to hold back their screams as the healers attended to them. Claw marks cut through their armor. Aedan wondered what manner of best could break their armor.

"A curse has attacked our clan. Werewolves ambushed us and keep us from moving on from these woods. Even if I wanted to, any troops I could spare you would not be able to leave this area."

"Why are they attacking?"

"Who knows. They are wild beasts, driven mad by their thirst for blood. Perhaps they have tired of small forest animals and now hunger for something more substantial. Like any wild beast, they need to be put down."

Zathrian nodded once and stared Aedan straight in the eyes. Aedan wondered why Zathrian didn't just ask for his help directly. Perhaps pride kept him from asking an human. Whatever the case, Aedan got the unsaid message.

"Clear out the werewolves and I get my troops. Got it."

"It's not that simple shemlen. You need to bring back the heart of their leader, Witherfang. Without it, I cannot lift the curse on the wounded and get them back to fighting shape."

"Clear out werewolves plus one and I get my troops. Got it. Any other details?"

"Aedan."

Aedan raised his eyebrows, surprised. It was either "shemlen" or "Warden" with Zathrian so far. The keeper took a deep breath. His voice trembled. "These...monsters...they hurt my clan. My family. Do not mistake them for anything else except what they are." His eyes narrowed and the keeper clenched his staff. It's end dug into the ground.

"They need to be put down," seethed Zathrian.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

Considering the long break I had before, I've decided to post this chapter earlier to make up for it. In the middle of generating a backlog, so the next chapter will be out relatively soon as well.

For you lore junkies out there, just a few things. Arlathvhen (according to the DA wiki) is a meeting between all the Dalish clans every few years to exchange information and help preserve their old ways. The Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel, is essentially the elf's trickster god, and his name is often used in-game whenever elves curse.

**ChocolateTruffles**: Zevran always struck me as the opposite of the Warden in my mind; growing up poor on the streets with an casual approach to killing, and while Aedan grew up rich and with a less tolerant view on killing. Zevran will get a lot more focus in the coming chapters because of this and how he and the Warden change each others views. As for what Marjolaine meant, we'll start to see in the flashback story who and what exactly Aedan is dealing with. There's a small, but important, thread that connects the Origins story and the flashback story, and there's been a small hint so far.

**JordanMathias:** Thanks, I tried to contrast Zevran short and direct explanation to Aedan's rather lengthy to show their different mindset on killing. Glad you liked Zevran's explanation. Slight spoilers if you haven't completed all of Zevran's dialogue/past, but there's a chance he's not being entirely honest though. I'll deal with that too.

**JakMartheDarkWarrior**: Let's see...addressing the four things you mentioned 1) The Cousland blade and Howe are not going to be directly dealt with for awhile, but Aedan will be contemplating on Howe especially over the next few chapters. After all, this part is about justice. 2+3) Don't know if you recall, but there's a mini dragon in the Elven ruins, so the group will have to fight that. The bigger ones are for later though. 4) While "Lerooy Jenkin" might not describe it, somebody's going to cut loose soon.

**SgtGinger**: Haha it's been awhile since I've seen you review, good to see you again. As for the flashbacks taking up lots of space, while the size may stay the same for around this part (as some important bits happen there), when the group moves onto Orzammar next the Origins story will definitely take precedence; I've got lots to write about there.

**NonOmnisMoriar**: Thanks for the compliments, hope you enjoy the rest of the chapters just as much!

As always, feel free to review, ask questions, or leave constructive criticism. Hope you enjoyed reading!


	32. Withheld

**Part 4: Justice**

_Chapter 32: Withheld_

"So...werewolves. Are we ever going to fight anything...normal?"

"I have shit luck, Alistair, so probably not."

"Is it too much to ask that somebody asks us to eliminate a village of marshmallow people?"

"In a better world my friend." The two men sighed simultaneously, thinking of an easier world that alas, was not theirs.

"How big is this damn forest?" complained Sten. As one of the taller ones in the group, branches kept hitting his face and body. The qunari tired of wading through the forest.

"Legend say that the Brecilian Forest is haunted." Leliana cautiously looked about. "Many have come and yet some never return. Perhaps we walk upon their mangled bodies."

"That's super, Leliana. And here I thought this was just a semi-haunted forest, not full-on haunted."

Something rustled in the distance. Everyone quieted and glanced at each other. Aedan unsheathed his sword with the utmost care to not let it make a noise against his scabbard. Just as he stepped forward,a blur lunged from the bushes and tackled Aedan to the ground. His sword fell out of his hand whilst the figure pinned him down. Monstrous eyes and razor sharp teeth stared back at him. It's dirtied, bloodstained fur smelt of forest. Dextrous fingers held down his wrists.

Before Aedan could say anything, the figure collapsed onto him. "You're welcome, Warden. Try to be a little more careful next time," muttered Zevran. The assassin pulled his dagger out of the creature's back. He wiped the blood on the creature's fur."Hmm. This looks quite warm. I could use a new coat." Still shocked, Aedan heaved deep breaths and shoved the creature off of him. Zevran offered his hand and hoisted the Warden up.

"Damn things are faster than I thought they'd be." Aedan picked up his weapons and mentally chided himself for his lack of awareness. If Zevran hadn't been quicker, he might be dead now.

He looked down at the corpse beneath him. It's massive back and clawed hands and feet seemed monstrous, yet the creature had a distinctive human like shape, with long arms and legs to stand upright with.

"Must be one of the werewolves."

As if the forest didn't unnerve him enough, now Aedan had werewolves leaping out of nowhere. He drew out his sword and advanced far more carefully.

"So how exactly are these things made?"

"When a man werewolf and a lady werewolf love each other very muc-"

"Not what I meant, Alistair." Aedan shuddered at the thought of two werewolves going at it. "I meant curse-wise. Any ideas Wynne or Morrigan?"

"Considering that he needs the heart of Witherfang, it must originate from it. I'm not familiar with Dalish magic, so I'm not sure how they'd make a cure from it's heart. The opportunity to observe this Zathrian in action would be quite educational." Morrigan poked the werewolf corpse with her staff and rolled it over. It's face stared up at Aedan. The light had not yet left its eyes, and looking at it sent shivers down Aedan's spine. Morrigan however merely opened the mouth with her staff and began examining the teeth.

"Quite sharp- sharper than any creature I've seen in the Wilds. Should not let it bite you. Even if you do not contract the curse, it'll pierce flesh and most leather armors." Morrigan smirked and patted Aedan on the shoulder. "As our fearless armored leader, that means you shall be leading the charge, yes? I am far too delicate to be on the front lines."

"Have you considered investing in something not so...prone to stabbing?"

"I believe you are the only one doing the stabbing there, Warden," snickered Zevran under his breath.

Ignoring Zevran (something which had become a habit), Morrigan scoffed at Aedan's suggestion. "And lumber around like you fools, dripping in sweat and tired after just walking for long periods?"

"Fine fine, do what you want. Just stay behind me then," sighed Aedan, drawing out his shield and leading with it forward. The group entered a large clearing, with a rushing waterfall greeting them. The mist from the falls obscured Aedan's vision. The splashing of the water and the rustling of the leaves unnerved him: it masked too many noises.

"Well, seems simple enough,"Alistair said, "Don't have to worry about blood mages or demon children. Get in, hunt some beasts, and get out."

To further welcome them, a horde of massive werewolves rose from the bushes and inched towards them. The death of their scout seemed to have made them cautious. "Fantastic." The templar brandished his sword. "They came to us."

Back to back the group stood at ready; for every one of Aedan's companions, three werewolves snarled back. They hissed and barked at them, circling around them and tightening their perimeter.

"Everyone, on my mark...three-"

Sten clenched his sword hilt. Wynne began chanting under her breath.

"Two-"

Shale smashed it's fists together and Zevran twirled his daggers.

"One-"

Leliana drew her arrow. Morrigan's hands alit. Alistair raised his shield in front of him.

"G-"

"Stop my brothers!" Aedan whipped his head to the source. A lone werewolf rushed in front of the pack, raising his hands. "We have no need to harm these ones. They are not the Dalish." The others barked back at him, but this werewolf, covered in scars and torn fur, growled back. It towered over the others by a good foot. The other werewolves began stepping back, although they still eyed Aedan and his friends, drool dripping from their fangs.

The leader werewolf turned to Aedan and growled, pointing at their weapons. Aedan complied and sheathed his sword and shield.

"Warden, this is not-"

"Put the sword away, Sten. I'd like to see how this plays out."

Sten looked over at the leader werewolf and returned it's snarl. He begrudingly strapped his sword to his back, still eyeing the surrounding enemy.

"Human," growled the werewolf. It's fangs bared as spat out it's words. "You are not the Dalish. You have no business here."

Still in the middle of processing this new development, Aedan stood dumbfounded for a few moments. "You talk," he whispered. Never when he had heard the tales of werewolves heard of them talking, nevertheless backing down from a fight. They had been the scary specters that his mother used to scare him away from the forest, never intelligent.

"Indeed. I am Swiftrunner, leader of this pack. We do not wish harm upon you; you have not wronged us. The Dalish are all that we have come for." He flicked his clawed hand to the north. "Leave."

Aedan narrowed his eyes."He said that you were just wild beasts."

"Of course Zathrian would say that. He simply wants us dead."

"You attacked him first, of course he'd be angry."

"We...attacked him first?" The werewolf hissed and ground its fangs together. Swiftrunner's breathing quickened and his long fingers curled into a clenched fist. With each breath his anger grew, and Aedan feared he might need to unsheath his sword, but the werewolf widened his eyes in realization of his own anger. Swiftrunner clenched his eyes shut and took deep breaths. Aedan didn't like this: it seemed the werewolf suffered from an anger problem.

Or a human suffered from a werewolf problem.

"How very little you understand the situation human. This is not your place to cause problems. Leave or we will kill you."

"I don't want anybody to get hurt. I just want to know what the hell is going on."

"Did you not hear us?" spoke Swiftrunner, his voice bristling with anger, "Leave or we will kill you."

"Understand me, I'd love nothing more than to get out of both of you and the Dalish's hair, but I can't leave." Aedan tried to make eye contact with Swiftrunner. "Not until this is resolved."

The werewolf pointed at Aedan's throat and growled,"You have been given fair warning human. Next time we meet, I will not hesitate to rip out your throat." The creature dropped to all fours and scurried off into the shadows of the forest. The rest of his brethren took one last lingering look at Aedan and his group. They growled and hissed, but eventually they too left.

* * *

><p>After the group had trudged their way back to the Dalish camp, Aedan ignored the hostile eyes of the guards and the stares of the civilians, and stomped straight to Zathrian. The keeper barely reacted to Aedan once the Warden, fuming, finally reached him. "Well?" he asked, still leaning against the caravan.<p>

"They talk."

"Excuse me?"

Aedan thrust his finger at Zathrian and growled,"You lied to me. You told me they were just beasts. This one talked- it even had a damn name!"

"You shemlens are always so excitabl." Zevran held his hands before him and waited for Aedan's irritation to subside. When it showed no sign of doing so, he sighed and continued, "I assure you Warden, I knew of no such thing, but I do not see what this changes."

"This changes the entire thing! I can't just march in and slaughter all of them."

"Why not? Just because they might be intelligent doesn't automatically give them the right to live. If anything, it's more damning. Those creatures _chose _to attack my brethren. Not only do they have the heart of beast, but the mind of one as well. They follow no rules."

"Couldn't we talk with them, find some way to parley?"

"When you have lived as long as me, Warden, then you'll understand. You cannot change the nature of a beast."

Aedan waited momentarily and bit his tongue. He needed to see if Zathrian would explain Swiftrunner's statement, that Zathrian had committed some wrong against them. Zathrian merely raised his eyebrow at Aedan's silence.

"Do not forget that without killing them, you cannot get your troops. What are the lives of several beasts in exchange for a nation's safety?"

Aedan glared. It seemed Zathrian would not explain the werewolves motives. "Very well. I'll kill them." He gestured for the group to follow him back to the forest's entrance. The angry glances of the elfs had intensified; apparently they disliked Aedan's brazen attitude towards their keeper.

"Wait a second, are we going to just kill all of them?" asked Leliana.

"No. I lied." Aedan looked back once at Zathrian, who although out of earshot still watched them. He knew something, but wouldn't tell. A grudge maybe? Or maybe something to do with the cure? Aedan scratched his chin and contemplated."Zathrian's not telling us something. Until we get the whole story, I want to avoid bloodshed."

"These creatures are beasts, Warden." Sten towered over Aedan and looked down upon him with a tinge of anger. "You saw with your own two eyes what it would've done to you if the elf had not killed it. We cannot risk our own safety in exchange for theirs. Do not waste our time on such frivolty."

Sten glared at Aedan from above, and Aedan returned back the hostility. After a few tense moments, Zevran squeezed himself between the two and piped in. "I agree with Sten here," piped in Zevran, "I don't care whether they sing or dance- these things need to die."

Sten nodded and gave what Aedan thought was a smirk. With Sten, only slight changes in his face meant many things.

"But the Warden is our leader, and he has not led us astray so far. Let us be cautious in our dealings with them. Just bang them on the head or something, okay Sten?"

Aedan smirked back at Sten. The qunari pivoted and bumped against Aedan's shoulder as he passed by, with enough force to elicit a wince from Aedan.

* * *

><p><em>Hijaya tapped rapidly on Aedan's shoulder. The man turned around to see her covered in some sort of gravy. "Don't ask," she grumbled.<em>

"_What is it?"_

"_I was talking to one servant, and she's been complaining about how her master has been away often, and he's been coming back moody and irritated, yet with strange packages in tow."_

"_Define strange packages."_

"_I don't know. They were just big, and he was carrying them by himself with no servants helping him. It seemed rather unusual to this servant."_

"_What's his name."_

"_Uh...Bann Aberpard I think?"_

_Aedan remembered him. He had impersonated Abelard's son at a tournament, the same one which Victor had been assigned to assassinate the king at. Aedan had ruled Abelard out of the equation since the people who had tried to bribe him (thinking him Abelard's son) had threatened Abelard's life. _

_Aedan nodded Hijaya back to the kitchens and began to search through the crowd for the Bann. It didn't take long to find him; the man stood solitary, sipping a glass of wine with a dour expression._

"_It's so good to see you again Bann Abelard!" cried Aedan whilst approaching the Bann. Aedan suspected that the large movements of money of Bann Abelard went to fund his penchants for ladies of the night. Still, it couldn't hurt to check._

"_Ah yes, Aedan Cousland. Tis good to see you again," smiled the Bann. He set down his glass and picked up another from a passingby waiter."_

"_Any news on your son, Yates?"_

"_Unfortunately, no. I've given up the search for him. It's been a little over a year since he disappeared. If he wanted to be found, then I'd have found him by now."_

"_I'm so sorry." Despite being the one who facilitated Yate's departure, Aedan felt a pang of guilt, for he could see Bann Abelard's son's absence had taken its toll on him. The Bann had more wrinkles then he remembered, and streaks of white flowed through his previously full brown hair. _

_Aedan smiled as sincerely as he could. "Let's not talk about such depressing things. What's been going on with you? Been up to anything interesting?"_

"_Well- oh! Teyrna Cousland. What a pleasure to see you here tonight."_

_Aedan's mother appeared from behind him and shook the Bann's hand warmly. Aedan's heart dropped and a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. Since the run in with Adair, his mother had been suspicious of anything Aedan did: taking food to the dungeons, going over to Teharel's, even talking Gregory for a walk. _

"_Ah yes. I wasn't aware my son would be attending. I usually have to force him to come to things like this." Eleanor twisted to Aedan smiling with utter malice and her eyes closed. For that, Aedan was thankful he couldn't see her eyes, for he might faint from the stare. _

"_I wonder what brings him here." Aedan winced as his mother pinched him from behind. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, before leaning into his ear."Aedan," she seethed._

"_Mother," he whispered back, trying to maintain his calm smile._

"_What are you scheming?"_

"_Nothing mother. Why would you think I'm scheming?"_

"_You have on your scheming look."_

"_Nonsense. I am just a gentleman out for a night on the town." Aedan clinked his glass against hers, then brought it to his mouth to sip._

_Eleanor gave him a dirty look. "Why are you drinking grape juice? Are you pregnant or something?"_

_Aedan sputtered out his drink. "This...this is wine, Mother. I am drinking wine because I am here enjoying myself." He did a little nervous laugh and sipped down the rest of it, lest his mother ask to sample. His mother crossed her arms and glared at him._

"_You are pretending to drink wine because you are scheming something. I am your mother. I know when my children are scheming."_

_Aedan pecked his mother on the cheek and whispered, "I love you too, Mother," before hiding into a crowd of nearby nobles. Once he had located Bann Abelard again, he tapped the man on the shoulder and asked: "Ah Bann Abelard, I just had a quick question I wanted to ask you, before I let you go for the evening."_

_The man gave one too many nods and stumbled slightly sideways. He hadn't had restrained when chugging the drinks. "Certainly Aedan."_

"_Will you be attending the execution?"_

"_What execution?" Bann Abelard cocked his head sideways and furrowed his brow._

"_Ah, you didn't hear. Remember? King Maric's assassin? His name was...what was his name?" Aedan feigned ignorance and scratched the side of his head. _

"_Victor, I believe," nodded the Bann, "And yes, I'll be there."_

"_Good talking to you, Bann Abelard," said Aedan. Whilst the Bann stumbled off, Aedan eyed him with suspicion._

_They had never released Victor's name to the public._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Yeah so another chapter down. I'll probably resume regular schedule (weekly) now after these last few rapid chapters. This chapter was a bit of a pain to write, so it might reflect in the writing. (I just needed to get all the conflict setting up out of the way).

**Jarjaxle**: In general I'm going to stick to how the decisions played out in the actual game. It'd be an interesting to see werewolves and elves cooperate, I admit, but this story is less about changing the lore and more about fleshing out the Warden and the for future plans as to where this piece is going: yes, I am planning to do Awakening and Witch Hunt.

**ChocolateTruffles**: Jealous Morrigan was a lot of fun to write, so I'm happy you enjoyed reading it. As for how the past catches up to Aedan...watch the next few chapters. You'll see what I've been trying to build to.

**NonOmnisMoriar**: As for the exact moment Morrigan realizes, that's part of what I liked about the Morrigan romance in game. She's never actually experienced these kind of feelings, so she doesn't realize what they are until its too late. You'll see a lot more development on the Morrigan/Aedan front during the next part in Orzammar.

**fjun**: Thanks for your honesty! Unfortunately, I have a specific story I want to tell that relates to each part in the Origins story, so they'll be staying. However, I'm listening to your complaint: its seems the flashbacks take too long compared to the Origins stor and interrupts it sometimes, and as a result immersion falters. The last thing I want is to bother readers with immersion breaking. One thing I'm doing is compacting the flashback into one smaller chunk at the beginning or end of the chapter. This way, you can enjoy the Origins segment uninterrupted, and have the choice of reading or skipping the flashback segment if you so for Aedan's character, you perfectly got what I was going for, so I'm sort of ecstatic right now. When I started writing this piece, I vowed to not make the Warden angsty and mopey, as it didn't make for a good character.

As for the moment you referenced, I purposely made his reaction childlike there because someone attempted to pry too deep into his personal thoughts, and he panicked. We all have our moments of panic, and that was Aedan's, although looking back now it does seem a little out of character. The very suggestion that he had weakness or problems and his reaction to such things is something to look out for though.

Once again, feel free to leave review, constructive criticism, or ask questions. Thanks for reading!


	33. Stand

**Part 4: Justice**

_Chapter 33: Stand_

_Aedan strode up to Bann Abelard, a list of possible topics in hand. He thought of asking back-handedly about Victor: what the Bann knew about him, or any sort of information the Bann might accidentally let slip. He couldn't just hand him over to Kylon right this second; the very reason Kylon had come to him was to weasel information out of nobles, not force Kylon to reserve an interrogation room. Even worst, Bann Abelard might be sent to Fort Drakon, where Maker knows what would happen to him there. Aedan hoped he'd never have to visit that accursed place._

_To his surprise, he found the sweaty palmed Bann rushing towards him, rather impolitely pushing himself through the crowd. The man panted and clasped Aedan shoulders with his hands._

"_I need to get out of here," he stammered, darting around, "Can you get me out of here?"_

"_What?"_

"_Can we talk about this later? Those men are going to kill me!"_

"_Which men?"_

_Shattered glass rained down from the ceilings as several armed figures dropped in from outside. _

"_That was convenient timing," muttered Aedan under his breath, who pulled Bann Abelard towards the kitchen. He and the Bann hid behind the door while they watched through a crack._

_Some guards pulled masks over their heads and smashed their fists against the back of their comrades' heads. In a blink of an eye, all the guards had either been tied up and thrown into the cellar (including Kylon), or had joined the intruders in their masked revelrie. Aedan noted a distinct Orlesian design to their masks. It didn't surprise him, since only Orlais made masks worth wearing._

"_Well well well, a bunch of nobles sipping their wine and eating their fancy shrimps. Never seen that before."_

_On man, clad in plate gauntlets and with a cloak draped over him, stepped into the crowd of nobles toward Bann Alfstanna. The man threw his cloak off to reveal an array of swords and knives. He bared one of them towards Bann Alfstanna and chuckled, his thick Orlesian accent echoing through the chamber._

"_This is a robbery. Move and we'll slice your heads off."_

_Several noblewoman squealed in horror as the rest drew their weapons and began patting down the attendees. With brute force they tore off noblewomens' jewelry and snatched their bags from them. Trembling, none of the nobles tried to resist, save for Bann Alfstanna's furious expression._

"_You think you can just barge into my manor and take us hostage?" She shoved the leader backwards and growled. The Orlesian man snickered and flicked away Bann Alfstanna's hand. _

_While the attackers perused the goods of the nobles, a familiar hand grabbed Aedan from behind._

"_Mother," greeted Aedan without turning his head from the unfolding scene. He glanced once behind him though to check that she was alright; both she and Hijaya had thought it safe to hide out in the kitchen as well. Unnerved, Hijaya ticked her teeth against one another and fidgeted in place. Eleanor however remained calm and looked at Aedan for anwers; she knew the difference between when she should be scolding her son and when she should be listening._

"_Does this have something to do with our prisoner?"_

_Aedan smiled. She caught on quickly. "Mother. I need you to get Bann Abelard out of here. The man's probably going to piss himself. Hijaya, go with her and stay out of trouble."_

_The young man leaned back over the door and peaked out at the attackers Some of them had begun patrolling near the kitchen door. Aedan signalled to his mother and other others to get ready. His mother patted her son on the arm and lingered there._

"_You're sure about this?"_

_Aedan grimaced. "This...is something I have to do, Mother."_

_His mother nodded in understanding. Aedan smiled at this, then took a deep breath. Two mercenaries were passing by the kitchen door. As loud as he could Aedan kicked open the kitchen door and knocked the two to the ground._

"_Shit!" shouted Aedan extra loud so that the mercenaries on the far side of the room could hear him. "It's not safe here, Bann Abelard! Down the hallway!"_

_The leader whirled around to Aedan's voice. The young noble grinned. If they thought that Bann Abelard was with him, they'd follow and keep their focus on him, while his mother and Hijaya sneaked the Bann out. While they took the side door through the kitchen to navigate through the servant quarters, Aedan burst through the opposite door with the attackers in pursuit._

"_After him!" screamed the Orlesian, his sword raised as he motioned all his troops to pursue Aedan. The noble hadn't expected all of them to pursue him; at least now the other nobles could flee, but now twenty-five armed men chased after him._

_Aedan ran as fast as his legs could take him._

* * *

><p>"I sort of expected it to be bigger!"<p>

Alistair lept to the side whilst the dragon spat flame. It grazed the tips of his boots and seared the metal. A blood-curdling shriek erupted from it's scaley mouth. Upon entering the main chamber of the elven ruins, the dragon had soared down from it's perch, protective of it's stash. Aedan wondered why a dragon would work so hard to protect gold that held no value to it.

"Tis not fully grown. A High Dragon would be much, much larger," commented Morrigan, who circled the dragon. The air around her hands chilled as she shot bolts of ice. While Morrigan distracted the dragon, Aedan ran from behind to surprise it, yet neglected to do so silently. The dragon's foot collided with Aedan's chest and he staggered backwards. The dragon snapped it's neck at Aedan, and it's jaws barely missed Aedan's helm. Aedan grabbed the dragon by the jaws and clutched them together.

"Let's debate on whether or not this is a proper dragon later." Aedan kicked his sword over to Alistair, while struggling to keep the dragon from opening it's mouth. Smoke billowed from it's nostrils and the mouth felt hot to the touch. It's claw crashed into Aedan's face and knocked his helm clean off of him. Dazed, Aedan lost his footing. The dragon shook Aedan back and forth, and the warden felt himself lifted off the ground.

"I'd like a little help now!" he screamed, kicking the dragon's neck whilst he flailed in the air.

Alstair lept onto the dragon's back and plunged the sword right below it's neck. The dragon stumbled and collapsed the ground. Aedan released his hold and rolled down of the neck, whilst Sten and Alistair cleaved at the creature. The creature let out a few last screams as Sten sunk his blade deep into it's heart. It shrieked towards the sky mournfully, letting one last wisp of flame escape.

Aedan stared at the creature, slumped dead on the ground. He winced as he rubbed a fresh bruise. "Remind me never to grab one of those things by the mouth again."

Frankly, Aedan tired of this entire forest, these elven ruins, and this entire quest Zathrian had sent him on. Undertaking this with no background information, Aedan felt like Zathrian was using him like a blunt instrument.

The werewolves could talk; Aedan had seen that in the forest, and when he had first attempted to enter their lair. The entire time, they talked of "protecting their lady." Aedan's group had not yet killed any of the werewolves in the ruins yet, and Aedan did not savor the idea. The more they spoke, the more and more Aedan questioned who the real monster was: Zathrian, for refusing to acknowledge the werewolves, or the werewolves, who seemed almost feral save for their occasional bouts of speech.

Or perhaps him, the blunt instrument. He had told Zevran he didn't want to kill unless absolutely necessary. The decision had to be made whether to kill all the werewolves to get Witherfang's heart. That was the only way to get the elves to honor the contract. Whether or not it was a just decision was still unknown.

_What am I willing to do to get these troops? To stop the Blight?_

Such thoughts plagued Aedan while he exited the large central chamber that had held the dragon. The elven ruins winded and burrowed further underground. Aedan had believed only the dwarves could make such intricate, underground structures, but it seemed the ancient elves differed much from the current ones. Normally, torches would have lined the wall of any decent underground facility, but it seems this one had been long abandoned. As such, any torches still bolted to the walls had long ago been eaten away at by insects. One such scurried along the ground.

The group continued navigating the labyrinth until they came to a fork: the path diverged three ways, each one leading into darkness.

"Let's split up- a mage to each party to light the way, and for the one without, Shale can just substitute with crystals."

Aedan, Morrigan, and Zevran headed down the rightmost path, whilst the others took the other two paths. Morrigan raised her hand and a small wisp of flame arose from her fingertips. Despite the light, Aedan could only see a flicker of Zevran's and Morrigan's face. Morrigan raised her finger to her lips, and nodded further down the hallway. The other two nodded in understanding: stealth might give them the edge there.

The sheer darkness made Aedan grind his teeth together. Having to walk down the hallway, barely being able to see ahead of him, unnerved him. He peered at Zevran, who seemed unaffected; he strode along, business-like as usual. Morrigan too advanced with such calm, but with a more reluctant, or perhaps careful, step than Zevran.

Morrigan turned her hand. Aedan noticed the glint of the fangs and the inaudible brush of fur against the wind too late. A blur knocked Morrigan to the ground, and the light in her hand extinguished.

"MORRIGAN!"

Without even thinking Aedan grabbed his shield in both hands and slammed his shield into the back of the werewolf's head. A sickening crunch of bones echoed through the hallway, followed by the collapse of the limp creature onto Morrigan. Aedan hurled the body off of her and cradled her in his arms. Without her fire, he could see nothing. He patted her down desperately trying to what the werewolf had done. He felt blood streaming from her upper chest along her left shoulder. Jagged bits of flesh lined the bite trail around her arm. His fingers traced the deeper gashes from the creature's claws. His chest twisted and gripped her tighter.

Morrigan shivered in his arms, muttering something under her breath. It seems upon falling she had hit her head. Aedan heard a howl further down the hallway: the werewolves had heard his outburst. Aedan clenched his teeth as he looked down at Morrigan, growing colder and bleeding. He had to make a decision quick. He motioned Zevran over, who took Morrigan from his arms. Aedan, trembling from the shock and his arms slicked with the witch's blood, almost dropped her.

"Warden-"

"Get her back to Wynne, now, I'll hold them off for now! They're probably lurking in the shadows aroun-"

A werewolf tackled Aedan to the ground. Still looking at Zevran, Aedan struggled to wrangle the beast off of him."Go!" he yelled, right before the werewolf headbutted him. Now the elf ran with such ferocity Aedan could finally hear his footsteps as he fled down the hall, Morrigan in tow.

Now to survive.

Aedan whipped around and smacked the werewolf square in the jaw. The beast staggered backwards. Aedan drew his sword and made a motion to slice the creature, but his sword hesitated as he swung. In that split second, the creature slashed at his arms, knocking out Aedan's weapons. Pain shot through his forearms.

"I will not allow you to harm the Lady!" the beast growled, before lunging at Aedan once again. It pinned Aedan against the wall. Ancient stones gave way as hands burst forth and grabbed Aedan from behind. Aedan struggled to pry himself from their grip, but to no avail. His sword and shield lay helplessly on the ground, whilst the angry breaths of the werewolves grew closer.

"I don't want to hurt you...we can talk this out," he said, still not ceasing his struggling. His eyes darted about, trying to count out how many surrounded him, but could see nothing without light. Only the werewolves' vicious eyes stared back at him.

Aedan's heart beat against his chest while the werewolf leaned in and stared at him. It had paused- was it considering his offer? Aedan and the werewolf looked eye to eye, and for a brief moment Aedan thought he saw the snarl soften. Yet the moment passed, and the werewolf glanced at Aedan's sword and shield, and contorted it's face in rage. Aedan struggled forwards, trying to push against what remained of the walls with his legs, but to no avail. The werewolf behind had looped his monstrous arms under Aedan's armpits.

"Lies!" it roared, "Zathrian showed us no mercy, and we shall show none to those who follow him!" As it's mouth opened up to strike, Aedan made out in the darkness it's bared teeth, ready to tear him to shreds. Saliva dripped from it's mouth.

How many times had he seen this? The edge of a blade pressed to his throat? A mace hurtling towards him? How many times had death stared him down?

"You got a lady to protect?"

Aedan reached down into his side pack with both hands. In one hand, he pulled out Nan's knife and swung it backwards. In the other, he grasped a firebomb; the liquid inside shook and bubbled as Aedan grabbed the corked end and swung it at the werewolf's head. He snarled back and gritted his teeth.

"I've got an entire nation."

His knife sunk into the werewolf behind him first, sinking into the eye. The werewolf staggered backwards, allowing Aedan to pick up his shield. The glass of his vial shattered against the other's head, and an explosion rocked the corridor. The explosion tore away at Aedan's armor and sent him flying.

Blood trickling from his mouth, Aedan wobbled up, a ringing noise pounding in his head. He wiped the charred bits of werewolf flesh and shattered glass from his helm. A bloodied fanged tooth had lodged itself in his helm. The werewolf's still burning corpse illuminated the approaching werewolves. Before they could attack, Aedan charged forward shield first, knocking a path through their lines.

_Neck._

Aedan's blade swung. A werewolf head thudded to the ground, followed by it's body.

_Heart._

As Aedan's sword arced from it's recent victim's neck, blood flung from it's tip and splattered against the wall. Aedan impaled his sword into a werewolf's heart. Gritting his teeth, he smashed the beast down with his shield, lest it muster any remaining attacks.

"Kill him! Kill him!"

Aedan stabbed and stabbed. The smell of burnt flesh rose into his helm, so he tried to breath through his mouth. Blood gurgled as he panted. All he could feel was the blood searing against his veins and blows of the werewolf's against his shield till his arm went numb. The faint outlines of the werewolves dropped one by one, illuminated by the burning corpse. More and more blood splattered against it, slowly killing the flame, until only darkness remained.

Another one tore at his back. Aedan screamed in pain as it's claws tore through his skin.

_Can't die here. Won't die here. Still have work to do._

He kicked backwards right into it's chin. Whilst it staggered backwards, he spun backwards and leaned into his thrust. It pierced below the creature's jaw and through the top of his head. Aedan kicked the body off and yanked his sword from the flesh, letting the force carry into his next blow; his sword cleaved at the necks of two werewolves that lunged from the side. Their blood sprayed against Aedan's visor. Several werewolves backed off and fled, screaming to their companions, "Stay back! He will kill us all!"

Aedan whirled around. Nothing at this back. He turned around again. Nothing on his sides. Panting and bleeding, Aedan's fingers pressed against the ancient, dusty walls as limped his way back to the others. While leaning on the walls, a panel gave way. He could hear the gears and pulleys turn behind it. The panel hissed, then retracted upwards, revealing a spiral stairway downwards. Peering inwards, Aedan heard the echoes of werewolves retreating back down. Perhaps this is where their "Lady" lay in wait. What kind of woman might she be, to be able to tame such...creatures? Not exactly beasts, but not exactly human either.

"Aedan! Are you- Maker!"

"What?" Aedan, still a bit dizzy from all the fighting, wasn't sure what Alistair was doing. It seemed like the man had made the gesture to help him stand, but stopped before he touched Aedan.

"What's wrong?"

Alistair didn't answer, as if the answer was obvious. He made a sour expression and opened his mouth to say something, then held back his words.

"Morrigan, is she alright?" Aedan rushed to Morrigan's side. It seemed the witch had recovered; she stood up with no help, and looking no worse for the wear save for some of her blood drenched in her robes, and a bandage wrapped around the side of her head and her right arm. Aedan grabbed her by the shoulders and leaned in close, examining her face and head. On second thought, she looked paler, and her arms felt cold to the touch. It seems she had lost some blood, but could still stand.

"You're...alright," he sighed.

"Tis good Zevran got her to me in time. She had head trauma and a lot of blood loss, so I managed to stabilize her with some magic and herbs." Wynne leaned over him and began to do the same healing for Aedan as well. "I suggest she not cast anything too intensive lest she strain herself too much."

Aedan smiled and turned back to face Morrigan. He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed in relief. He could feel her arms fidget in his hands. "You are too close," she mumbled, averting her gaze from his.

Aedan realized what he was doing, and who they were in front of, and shot his hands back up in the air whilst coughing rather awkwardly. His bloody handprints on Morrigan's arms stood out. He looked down at his gauntlets. He hadn't noticed, but the inner lining of his gloves felt cold and drenched in blood. On the outside, the blood clung to the scratched metal surface and dripped every so often.

Was the rest of him like this?

He could feel Wynne's mending touch sew his flesh back together. His back tingled where the werewolf had slashed at him. The prickly feeling felt like a needle threading through his skin. Wynne gingerly patted him once on the shoulder to signal him she was done. She handed him a rag.

"You may want to wipe yourself up."

Aedan took the rag and wiped down his armor quickly, then tossed blood drenched rag to the side. He pointed down into the stairway. "There's a secret entrance here. The werewolves' were probably laying in wait here, but are now fleeing downstairs. Most likely Witherfang is down there."

As the group wandered down into the stairwell, Aedan took one last lingering look down the dark hallway. He, nor the others, could see only darkness where his rampage took place.

He hoped with all his heart the werewolves were more beast than man.

* * *

><p><em>Author Notes<em>

Hey there, new update. A little later than usual because the next few chapters are important, so I've been trying to take my time on them.

sliceoffriedgold: Glad you like the writing! Man, I was wondering when someone would mention the blue bandanna; glad you caught it!

See you guys in about a week, I think there's about 3 more chapters left in this part, then we're off to Orzammar.


	34. Fury

**Part 4: Justice**

_Chapter 34: Fury_

_Ragged and out of breath, Aedan stumbled over the carpet and fell face first into the fuzzy patterns. His heart racing, he scrambled back up and glanced behind him. His pursuers closed in, and their sword looked sharper by the second. By now they had figured out that Bann Abelard wasn't with him, but they still pursued him. _

_He cursed the one warm night in Fereldan and how his sweat-drenched shirt felt like he had just fallen into a lake. You weren't supposed to get fine Antivan cloth this wet._

_Focus!_

_Racing through the hallways, his eyes searched for some escape. The windows had been placed too far up; he couldn't jump up to those. All other doors led to smaller, cut off rooms. Entering those meant inevitable death, cornered like a dog. Aedan didn't know where Bann Alfstanna kept her weaponry, and she may have hidden it away for her party. The candles flickered against the empty weapon racks, as though to mock Aedan._

_Candles._

_With a deft leap upwards, his fingers wrapped around the hot wax of a nearby candle. It burned against his skin and the man winced. Candle in hand, Aedan veered into the main hall and saw that although most of the occupants had fled, all the food and drinks had been left. And that included the alcohol._

_Aedan vaulted over the drinks table and planted the candle on a nearby rack. He grabbed several bottles of alcohol under his arm and looked at his situation. _

"_Vintage from Orlais, damn it, why do I have to waste you like this," muttered Aedan as he lobbed several bottles at his pursuers. The glass shattered against their masks and the fragrant wines dripped down into their armor. Aedan rolled to the side as several of them swiped at him, and uncorked a bottle of Orzammar rum. He waved the bottle in the air, letting the liquid spill out across even more of the armored pursuers. Blood dribbled from his arm as a dagger flew by him. More and more began to surround him. _

_Last bottle in hand, Aedan lept back to where he had left the single candle. Where the dagger had torn at his shirt, Aedan tore off the rest of the sleeve and stuffed it into the glass bottle of vodka. Just as a horde of the masked attackers circled him, Aedan raised the candle and the bottle. "Stop or you die!" he panted. All the running and dodging had really taken a toll on him. He wobbled a bit, still woozy from all the mercenaries stopped, looking at each other confused._

"_What the hell are you doing?" chided one attacker. _

"_You know, the liquors from Orzammar are particularly strong. Flammable too." Aedan's tremblig hand brought the tiny flame closer to the rag end of the vodka bottle._

"_Did you all enjoy your alcohol bath? You smell that? That's a classic vintage straight from the vineyards of __Val Royeaux. Woody, with a fruity undertone. Doesn't burn as well as Orzammar booze, but it gets the job done."_

_The leader of the group stepped forward, pushing the cautious soldiers to the side. Looking at Aedan's face, then back at the candle, he raised his sword. "Wine doesn't burn."_

"_Granted, there's also some rum and other assorted drinks soaking in your clothing right now. __So, the moment that you move forward, I light this bottle and chuck it at you. So step back."_

_Chuckling, the group's leader sheathed his sword back to his side. He stepped forward again. Aedan stepped back. "You won't do it," he slithered, "You won't kill me. You're just like the rest of these nobles. Cowards."_

_Aedan brought the candle closer to the bottle, but far away enough so that no breeze might accidentally make flame stray and light the makeshift bomb. "I'll do it. Don't test me."_

_An arrow zipped by the merc's ear. Both Aedan and the mercenary froze in shock. Aedan's mother, perched behind the balcony, fixed her sights on leader. Aedan smiled at his mother's well-placed shot: despite her age, she still had quite the aim._

"_You touch one hair on my son's head, and I will kill you where you stand."_

_Unlike with Aedan, the mercenary seemed visibly taken aback. Now he took the step backward and held his hands up in the air. He motioned for the others to sheath their weapons, with which they begrudingly obliged. With the leader's mask still on, Aedan couldn't ascertain his expression, but he imagined it to be quite panicked. _

"_Or...we make a deal. I have no quarrel with you or the Bann in particular."_

"_The hell you talking about," growled Aedan._

"_The woman who hired us- don't you want to know who it is? In exchange, we walk out of here, you put down that bow and arrow, and the kid puts down his candle."_

_Eleanor Cousland drew her bowstring back further and stared straight down her arrow at the man's forehead. "I'm not letting you criminals take one step out of here until the guards arrive."_

"_Too late," cooed a voice from the ceiling. A lithe, cloaked figure jumped in from the windows and threw down several smoke bombs. The thick noxious gas seemed familiar to Aedan, like something Adair would use. Coughing, Aedan shielded the flame with his body to keep it from going out. By the time the smoke cleared however all the masked men had disapeared._

"_Damn it! What's the point of guards if they can't even do their damn jobs?" shouted Eleanor, who threw a rope down the stairs. As she passed by her son, her nose scrunched up and she made a sick face. "Maker, it smells like a brewery in here." She sniffed her son once, then cringed away. "Never mind, it's just you."_

"_Where'd you get the bow?" asked Aedan, his heart still racing from all the excitement. "I was looking for weapons but couldn't find any."_

"_I come by and do target practice with Bann Alfstanna lately, so I know where she hides her weapons. You know, ladies night." His mother smiled as though shooting arrows with unrivaled accuracy was something standard ladies did. His mother had never been one to be a damsel in distress._

_Aedan grumbled under his breath,"Oh."_

"_What?" Eleanor glared at her son's sullen expression._

"_Could have grabbed me a sword or something," he muttered, avoiding his mother's gaze as he said it. __Scowling, his mother pinched his cheek and Aedan winced. "Are you complaining after I came to your rescue?" She pulled once again harder and Aedan stumbled forwards._

"_No, mother," groaned Aedan, prying his mother's hand from his cheek._

* * *

><p>His sword outstretched, Aedan glared at the surrounding werewolves. Suspiciously, only a few had ran to meet him. Did they really think just a few could take them down? Pointing his sword from werewolf to werewolf, with his companions' weapons also drawn, he soon realized that the werewolves did not dare approach. They whispered in each other's pointed ears, until finally the main door opened and a rather ragged werewolf stepped forward, limping with a bad leg. It slowly made its way in front of Aedan, before whom the werewolf bowed.<p>

"Enough of our brethren have been killed," it spoke, it's elderly voice trembling. "If we can avoid further violence with you, then we shall be open to parley."

"Parley with who? Your Lady?"

"Yes. We will allow you to see her,' said the elderly werewolf, who looked up and growled at Aedan,"But if you harm any ounce of her being, we will not hesitate to destroy you. Many more of us lurk in the shadows." As if on cue, the room filled with hisses and howls, and the lights from many an eye opened about the room from the shadows. Aedan hadn't even noticed them.

"The same goes for you."

Morrigan scowled at the werewolf as the group walked by him. "I certainly hope that this is not another trap, Aedan. I daresay I have had enough concussions for the day."

"Well," he whispered under his breath, "just stay alert."

"Easy for you to say when you don't have a splitting headache."

Proceeding through the main door, Aedan found themselves beset on all sides by werewolves, snarling at them, yet keeping their distance. A clear path had lead through the center of the chamber, marked by leaves and crudely erected branches, like a fence. A woman, pale like the night sky but with vines and branches wrapping around her body, stood at the end of the path. The wolves bowed before her as she strode, no, glided towards Aedan.

"Hello mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest." Her tendriled fingers, crafted from leaves and branches, crossed against her chest as she bowed before him. Out of courtesy, Aedan bowed back; this spirit seemed the civil sort, unlike the ones he had encountered in the Circle Tower. He tried to peer into her eyes, but her flowing black hair obscured one, while the other one seemed devoid of any color- just an utter void that Aedan, once he stared into it, averted his eyes. He chose instead to look at the obscured eye behind her hair.

"Hello...spirit," answered Aedan warily,"I'm a Grey Warden. I will be plain. I either need Witherfang's heart, or some other way to lift the curse on Zathrian's people. Have you either?"

"In order to lift this curse, you must first understand it," said the spirit,"A long time ago, Zathrian was a young man with a family: a daughter and a son. One day, whilst the two hunted, neighboring humans captured them."

Swiftrunner stepped forward. "The son, they killed. The daughter, they raped. And when she was returned to the elves and discovered she was with child...she killed herself." The wolf fumbled his hands together, not sure how to continue. Aedan let the story sink in silently. He could certainly understand Zathrian a little better now. After awhile, the Lady continued.

"And so Zathrian bound a spirit to wolf, and sent it to curse the humans. It transformed them into vile beasts, and it soon consumed the entire village. And yet even though those responsible had been punished...the curse lingered in the forest. Their ancestors and unfortunate travellers in the forest were cursed over time."

"The Lady...found us. Soothed our rage and taught us to regain our humanity."

"But their curse always eats away at them, so we sought a way to lift it. Everytime he has passed through this area, we send a message to Zathrian, but he always ignores us. We have had enough of his stubbornness."

Aedan would have crossed his arms in skepticism, but doing so in heavy armor proved unwieldly. "So you infected his clan to force him to lift it. Killed some of his own followers."

The spirit pointed at the sight of the wounded werewolves over near the door. Like Zathrian elves, they had been laid out on stretchers and writhed in agony. It seems the werewolves weren't skilled enough to employ higher-level medicine. "Just as you have killed some of ours in order to cure them. Stranger, this curse will not stop. It will consume more and more innocents. Someone must stop it, and if words will not be enough-"

The spirit narrowed her eyes and the tendriled branches about her shifted then tightened. "Then perhaps blood will suffice."

"Zathrian said," asked Aedan, "he could cure his people with Witherfang's heart." His gaze moved from Witherfang to the spirit and back. "Is this true?"

"It is, but it will only apply to those whom he chooses to cure. He will not help these poor souls. He is too clouded by hatred to do so." The spirit reached for Aedan hands and held them in her own. Her leave-like tendrils wrapped around his fingers. Aedan could feel something similar to human warmth emanating from them. "Please stranger, reason with him. Ask him to lift this curse, before both sides destroy each other."

Staring at these creatures, Aedan found it difficult to picture these creatures as having been human once. Some seemed completely feral now, and had to be restrained by some of their more civil brethren. What if the werewolf curse had not only turned their bodies, but changed their nature permanently? Could these creatures ever truly go back to being human, after what they had done and been through?

"How do I know that when I lift this curse, you won't stay feral?"

"Regardless of what will happen if the curse is lifted, they don't deserve to have this condition forced upon them."

Aedan bit his lip. The spirit had a point. He just wasn't sure if he could trust her or the werewolves. For all he knew they could be lying to lead him into a trap. The only way to confirm would be to ask Zathrian himself.

"I will bring Zathrian here, and see if he can lift this curse. I too would like to end this without violence."

* * *

><p>Aedan pushed open the gated doors. Standing by the entrance to the elven ruins, where they had entered not more than a few hours ago, was Zathrian. He planted himself between the group and the exit, clicking his staff once against the ground. He pocketed several vials into his knapsack, filled with bits of dead werewolf. Glaring at each other, Aedan and Zathrian both pondered their next words. The silence simmered until finally Zathrian broke it.<p>

"Warden."

"Zathrian."

"I don't see Witherfang's heart with you."

"Funny that you'd know they'd be here."

"I sense hostility. Why is that?"

Aedan jutted his finger angrily at Zathrian. "You know exactly why. I just had a chat with the Lady of the Forest."

"Lady of the Forest...is that what the spirit calls itself these days? The spirit is Witherfang...or did she neglect to tell you?" Zathrian paused to take note of Aedan's expression: his face had twitched. Aedan hide his mild shock and continued on his rant.

"Quite frankly, I'm not sure who to trust at this point, but I'm more interested in knowing the truth of her statements. Did you make the curse? You best answer me, or I leave you to your squabbles."

Silence passed while Zathrian stared at Aedan, less than bemused. He sighed and dusted off the hem of his robes. "Yes. I made it."

Aedan didn't like his matter of fact tone, nor that blank expression that Zathrian wore. It seemed the elf held no guilt for what he had done. "Can you lift it without Witherfang's heart?"

"I can, but it will still result in the death of the spirit, and the curse will be lifted indiscriminately."

"Then why haven't you lifted it already to save your people? What are you afraid of?"

"Of them, Warden. Look how long they have lived in these forests, feasting on innocent passersby and animals. Look upon their past transgressions and what they have done in the present. They cannot be trusted."

Aedan rubbed his brow and tried to think how to convince Zathrian to go parley. He responded with his honest opinion: "Just go down there and talk to them, Zathrian. They seem pretty repentant to me. We could end this without violence and there has been more than enough bloodshed."

Despite Aedan's words, Zathrian still seemed hesistant. He glanced over at Aedan's party, and back to the entrance, then back at Aedan. "If I go down there to parley, as you ask, will you have my back?"

"Depends on which one of you I think is right."

Zathrian's frowned and sighed,"A fair enough answer. I shall show you what these creatures surely are, then we will dispose of them."

Aedan led the keeper back down the side entrance the Lady had opened for them. The warden wished the damn thing had just been unlocked in the first place, as it would have made his trek a lot easier. Werewolf guards greeted them with snarls and hisses, but they kept their distance. They stepped backwards and made way for the Lady to approach Zathrian. A wistful, yet bitter expression twisted across Zathrian's face as the Lady of the Forest approached him. "Spirit. It has been some time." Before she got too close, he raised his staff towards her. The tip of his staff hummed with arcane energy.

The Lady smiled at his response sadly. "Too long, Zathrian. It has been too long. This curse must be lifted, for both our sakes and your clans." Her fingers pointed to barely restrained werewolves; the sight of Zathrian had boiled their anger and rustled their fur. Some with more control gripped the others by their arms to pull them back. Others hovered anxiously behind the makeshift fence, their eyes never leaving the tip of Zathrian's staff. Zathrian scoffed and his fingers wrapped around his staff like a vice. In an accusatory tone, he spat, "My clan would not be involved with this if you beasts had simply kept to yourselves- both in the present and the past."

"If we had learned to keep to ourselves and keep from harming the innocents, then we would not be beasts, now would we, Zathrian?" snarled Swiftrunner, leaping forward behind the Lady. His claws glinted in the chamber's eerie light. "But that is your fault! You have forced our hand!"

Looking back at Aedan, Zathrian raised his eyebrow and smirked condescendingly at Swiftrunner's reaction. "You see, Warden? Sure, it may talk like one of us, but beneath that facade is a bloodthirsty monster."

Aedan glanced at the others; they had the same worried expressions across their faces. None of them liked where this was going.

"The only monster here is you," interjected the spirit. Her hair began to lift up in the air, and the surrounding leaves swirled around her. Aedan could feel the wind brace against himself. "You have let your anger consume those who have not wronged, just for the sake of your petty revenge."

Aedan's eyes widened. The moment the spirit had spoken, he knew that it had been the exact wrong thing to say to Zathrian. The mage looked down at the ground with clenched fists, radiating wordless fury.""Petty?" Zathrian whispered under his breath.

The spirit held her hands out in surprise. "Zathrian, I did not mean-"

"PETTY?"

A shockwave tore through the room with Zathrian at its center. Like a hurricane, the very air around Zathrian sliced against all. "You go too far creature!" he screamed, "Do not forget why this curse was placed. Do not forget what my family had to go through. I will not let another one of you hurt another member of my clan!"

He thrust his hand forward and let loose a barrage of electricity. A shield of thorns and rocks arose from the ground to block the incoming blast from the Lady. Hands outstretched, she struggled to hold back Zathrian's assault. She turned backwards to Swiftrunner to desperately shake her head. Begrudgingly, the werewolf held back and let the situation play out. The Lady turned her gaze back to Zathrian, the wind tearing at her face.

"And we will not need to, if you simply cure us! Or are you that afraid of dying- we know that your own life is tied to that of the curse. You are not so different from us. All your years of wisdom amount to nothing, for you still choose to protect your vengeance over your own people."

"You steal them! Do not blame me for your monstrosities! You cannot blame me for your own rotten nature, carried down from those shemlen monsters that killed my son and raped my daughter!" screamed Zathrian. He pushed forward, and the shield between him and the Lady began to crumble. "Warden, let us put an end these creatures."

"Zathrian, lift the curse," stated Aedan, "Now." He stepped to the side of the Lady and drew his sword. His companions followed, each drawing their respective weapons and pointing it at Zathrian. The mage stood surrounded by countless beasts and warriors. The wind stopped, and Zathrian's staff fell to his side. "What?"

"These crea- these people deserve to be free," said Aedan, "I get that you want to avenge your family. Truly, I do, but these the ones who wronged you died long ago."

Zathrian smashed his staff into the ground. The earth shattered beneath Aedan and his party and broke apart. Whilst they struggled for footing, sylvans shook themselves from the soil. The ground shook as they stamped closer to the werewolves. Pillars rose and sank from the ground, launching werewolves into the air and swallowing some back into the soil. Sword in hand, Aedan weaved through the shifting landscape whilst boulders flew through the air.

Zathrian's eyes glowed blood red. "If you cannot see who is just in this matter, then you shall see my fury."

* * *

><p><em>The seedy Denerim alleyway behind the fishery used to house a homeless man with a stray mabari pup, until the arrival of several armed masked men scared both of them off. The Orlesian women scoffed as the two fled. "No wonder Fereldan smells like wet dog. They actually sleep with those mongrels by their sides." Wiping her boots against the wall, she turned to the leader of the mercenaries. "Did kill the Bann? Make his death look like just an accident with some robbers?"<em>

_The man hesitated to answer, his eyes darting around for any possible threats. The other alleyways seemed clear, and the woman seemed to have no backup with her. If need be, his team could take her. "No ma'am. The Bann escaped. That stupid Cousland kid distracted us."_

_The Orlesian woman grimaced behind her mask. She clicked her tongue and chided, "No doubt the Bann will go into hiding now that he knows his life is in danger. You are all fools."_

"_I think you are the fool, for coming alone. As a courtesy for saving us, I'll simply take the money owe-"_

_With a snap of her fingers, arrows rained down upon the men from the rooftops, each one finding their place in the skulls of every mercenary. Whilst their blood trickled in the dirt Denerim alleyway, the Orlesian woman stood over them and sighed. "It is so hard to find good help these days. Ah, Leliana, how I miss your...expertise." She picked up the leader's broken Orlesian mask and peered at the blood dripping down. A lone drop splattered against her blouse and dribbled down her chest._

"_But it seems that a new toy has entered this...game of ours." The woman licked her lips behind her mask and chuckled._

"_Well, Aedan Cousland, I do hope you're ready to play."_

* * *

><p><em>Author Notes:<em>

One more chapter till we leave the elves. I've been looking forward to the next chapter; it's the culmination of several threads.

**Pennamesarestupid**: I have a plan for Hawke, but much farther down the line, and it's more of a cameo than anything.

**Guest**: Glad to see you started reading!

As always, feel free to review, leave constructive criticism, or just ask questions. Thanks for reading!


	35. Punishment

**Part 4: Justice**

_Chapter 35: Punishment_

A blast of air catapulted Aedan upwards. Limbs flailing, Aedan desperately sought for something to grab onto. He kicked off against a Slyvan and rolled onto the floor near to Zathrian. Aedan didn't know it was possible for a single mage to hold out for so long. Uldred, who wielded both the power of a mage and a demon, fell much quicker. Perhap if Uldred had used less of his gigantic fists, and more of his magic like Zathrian, he would have succeeded. Even with the combined forces of the werewolves and his own group, Aedan had yet to penetrate Zathrian's solid defense. The mage had walled himself off with rock, air, and fire. Already several werewolves had fallen to Zathrian's elemental rage, but all in the room knew it was only a matter of time before he ran out of energy. Everyone just had to keep at it.

Sword outstreched, Aedan rushed at Zathrian's back. The mage whipped around whipped his staff in Aedan's direction. The air crackled, and lightning surged through Aedan's arm. The sickening smell of burnt flesh seeped through the cracks of his right arm's gauntlet. Aedan howled and dropped his sword in agony. Like a battering ram Aedan charged at Zathrian shield first, hoping to knock the man down. Another dome of air blasted him backwards. Still reeling in pain, Aedan clutched his right arm and looked around to assess the situation. Leliana had perched up upon a tree and was firing arrows to help take down the Slyvans. Once the last had fallen, she made eye contact with Aedan, who pointed at Zathrian and shook his head. Leliana looked at him and understood: they couldn't kill him yet. They still needed Zathrian to cure the werewolves. Her arrow pointed downwards, at his knee. Her bowstring went taut, then she released. In vain the arrow flew, for it bounced harmlessly off of Zathrian's shields.

"Everyone...keep at him and wear down his defenses!" screamed Aedan. Werewolves charged at the elemental, tearing at the searing material with their bare hands. They screamed in both determination and pain as the flames and lightning flared out at them.

"A little more!"

Slowly but surely the bubble shrank. With each armada of blows, the werewolves and warriors moved one step forward. Blood trickled down from Zathrian's nostril and his chest heaved in agony; he couldn't keep this up much longer. In desperation he struck his staff into the ground again, trying to blow back everyone. The most he could summon was a small breeze. In a flash of light the bubble shattered. The eyes of the werewolfs gleamed; here was their revenge, right in front of their eyes. The man who had stolen everything from them. They howled with victory as they began to close in around him, their fur bristling.

"Wait!" cried Swiftrunner, who lept in front of the rest. He swung his gaze at each and everyone of them and roared. The other werewolves halted. "We are not savages! Let the Warden deal with this." With a growl, the werewolf nodded slowly to Aedan. Blood streamed from his leg and he had to have another werewolf assist him with standing. The rest of the werewolves hesistated, looking back at Zathrian, than back at Swiftrunner, but eventually relented and fell back to the side.

Struggling to hold himself up by his staff, Zathrian roared, "I will die before I let these...things free of their punishment!" All he had now was his words; it was clear to all present Zathrian had run out of magic. The elven keeper barely stood, and blood streamed from his nostrils and the corners of his eyes. Even during the fight, he had taken small does of lyrium to sustain himself, which had taken it's physical toll. He spat blood upon the ground and jabbed his finger at Aedan. He stared at Aedan with utter contempt and panted, "This is justice."

Justice? How could this man think for a second that what he was doing was right? The very thought of this infuriated Aedan, who shouted, "It's just bloody vengeance!"

"You would not understand!" screamed Zathrian with all his might, spit flying from his mouth. Aedan hurled his shield into Zathrian's chest, knocking the wind out of him. His sword clattered to the ground and grabbed Zathrian felt himself being hoisted up by his collar.

"I wouldn't understand?" seethed Aedan. Beneath his helm, the man's teeth ground. His fist shook whilst holding Zathrian. This man thought himself thought himself alone in his grief. This man thought that this grief allowed him to do terrible things. Worst of all, this man thought he was right for inflicting such harm on others. Just like Howe.

All of a sudden Aedan stopped thinking. In a fit of rage, Aedan smashed his fist into Zathrian's face. The elf crumpled to the ground, seething in pain. "You think you can bully me with your fists?" he coughed, "What a typical shemlen. I don't know what Teharel saw in you."

_You are the type of person who stole everything from me._

Aedan wanted to hurt him. He knew fists wouldn't cut as deep as words, so he slithered under his breath, "I'm just a dirty-ass shemlen, ain't I? And yet here you are, the keeper of a great Dalish clan, who can't even protect his own clan. Couldn't even protect his own family." A twisted sense of satisfaction filled his heart as he saw Zathrian's face twist in anger and indignity. Roaring, Zathrian pivoted his hips and let his fist fly into Aedan's face. The Warden could easily dodge it; clearly the keeper had never been in a fist fight. His chest was wide open and he swung rather than jabbed with force. Yet his face contorted in rage as a vein bulged on his forehead.

"Don't you dare speak of them!" Zathrian howled. With utter ease, Aedan met Zathrian's fist with his own. Their knuckles smashed together and Zathrian stumbled backwards from the pain. Panting like a beast, Aedan encroached upon Zathrian, who kneeled on the ground cradling his hand. His shadow fell over the bleeding man.

Did this man deserve mercy?

Aedan clenched his hilt in his hand. It stung to grip the sword, as his very skin had been burnt raw. He raised the tip in the air to threaten Zathrian. The keeper didn't budge, and glared at him with adamant eyes. The keeper knew he had no magic left in him. With a bitter demeanor he closed his eyes and awaited his judgement by Aedan's hand.

If not for men like him, the army at Ostagar would still march.

If not for men like him, his family would still be alive.

If not for men like him, Morrigan would not have been endangered.

With a roar Aedan swung down. The edge of judgment sliced through the air and echoed through the chamber. Eyes clenched, Zathrian noticed that he was not in fact dead. He patted himself over for new wounds. No grievous wounds or injuries to speak of. In shock he looked back up at Aedan, then back at the sword. Aedan stared at him, his sword having collided with the stone floor. A solemn silence had taken him, as he simply stood there. As he stared, Zathrian noticed that even though Aedan's gaze fell upon him, the man was not looking at him. Aedan gazed far beyond him into an abyss, one which Zathrian knew too well. Zathrian's expression softened. At this moment, Zathrian and Aedan needed no words to say what both knew. Here stood kindred spirits, bitter and broken by the machinations of others.

"You too?" breathed Zathrian. Despite being beset on all sides by all manners of witch, warrior, and werewolf, he laid down his staff for the first time in many years. His fingers tingled; it felt strange to not hold a weapon in the presence of others. Once on his feet, the keeper walked over to Aedan and awkwardly patted the man on his shoulder.

"We're both just barely put together messes, aren't we?" Aedan tried his best to laugh, yet it could only come out as a bitter grunt. Zathrian too attempted the same, yet could only sigh. After a moment of silence, Zathrian let his hand fall to his side, where he bowed his head in shame. "I have lived far too long, thinking myself above others, forgetting that others could feel my pain. I will do as you ask."

Alistair picked up Zathrian's staff and held it out to him. Zathrian smiled and accepted the gesture, clasping his staff for the last time. Aedan wondered how longed Zathrian had carried the wizened piece of wood. Perhaps since his family's death. Turning to Aedan, Zathrian dug into his knapsack and threw him something. It glinted in the eerie light of the chamber. Aedan caught it with both hands and gazed upon it. He held a flask, with the carved symbol of an elven tree running down it's front. He traced the branches down to the root with his fingers. The flask had seen much wear over the years.

"For the sleepless nights that I know you have, and will have," said Zathrian. Aedan avoided the suspicious glances of his companions and pocketed the flask in his side-bag. A man's last gift was not to be taken lightly.

No one spoke as Zathrian limped over to his staff. Even the most rowdy werewolves stopped their growling and fidgeting. It took perhaps a minute for the keeper to finally muster up enough strength to kneel down and bring up his staff. His back turned to all those in the chamber, Zathrian whispered something under his breath as he stared at the ground.

_What do you say to man who is about to die?_ thought Aedan. _How do you comfort him? How do you give him that last gleaming sliver of happiness so that he will die happy? _He thought back to what his own parents might say to him. "You did good, Zathrian. I'm proud of you," lied Aedan. He smiled the best he could at Zathrian. The keeper sadly smiled back and grasped his staff in both hands. He slammed the tip down upon the ground. The Lady, her hands intertwined with Witherfang as he comforted her in her last moments, closed her eyes in peace.

* * *

><p><em>Today Aedan would watch a man die.<em>

_Truth be told, he had never seen a man die. Never seen the light drain from someone's eyes. Never taken a life with his blade. Aedan could count on his fingers the number of times he had been in life threatening situations. The most recently of which had been resolved in the same way as today's would be: death._

"_All dead?" asked Aedan of Kylon. Kylon had been stationed outside of the Landsmeet chamber for guard duty. The guard seemed no worse of wear after being hit over the head the previous night. Surprisingly, he and several other guards had managed to keep the other nobles from panicking in the streets by organizing the return of all their stolen goods. Still, work never rested, and Kylon had the displeasure of running security for today's execution._

"_Murdered in the streets. Whoever these men worked for didn't want them talking." Kylon leaned against the outside chamber walls and mulled over the crowd outside. Perhaps said person awaited in the crowd, just biding their time till they hired another attacker._

"_Why haven't they killed Victor and Adair yet then?" asked Aedan._

"_Perhaps they work for different people, or perhaps they feel as though Victor and Adair are dead men already. We are at Victor's execution after all."_

"_How about Bann Abelard? My mother got him out of the building, but he ran off afterwards."_

"_Luckily he ran straight to the guards for protection. We don't know what his crimes are yet, but he's willing to talk in exchange for information. We haven't gotten anything out of him yet though; he's still a bit shaken. I'll contact you when I have more. Go inside now, it's time."_

_Aedan nodded and thanked Kylon with a handshake. The young Cousland made his way to one of the balcony seats. Being the son of a Teynir meant that he was obligated to come to such events thrown by the Crown. His father and Fergus sat as usual at the front near the actual execution. For once, Aedan did not envy Fergus's seat._

_Once Aedan had found his seat, the sight of his mother greeted him. Rather solemnly she nodded and beckoned for him to sit down. The two didn't speak as the executioner rose and began to list the charges against Victor. The man, gagged and restrained in a blockade, no longer struggled against his bonds. His former sharp words and snarling face towards Aedan had now been replaced by defeat and a weary look._

"_What do you think?" whispered Eleanor to her son, "Of all this. You were the one who capture him anyhow."_

_Aedan continued to look at Victor's face. The restrained man scanned the room, but for whom Aedan did not know. Perhaps he searched for salvation. "It seems wrong to just... kill a man like this. To slaughter him like an animal. Like it's entertainment."_

"_I think so too." Eleanor sighed and continued to listen to the ceremony. Now a royal advisor had stepped out and began to list the praises of both Maric and Cailan. The young king sat upon his throne and leaned against his fist, rather bored._

"_I get why they're doing it," mused Aedan," I really do, but at the same time, it just feels...wrong. They need to set an example- to show people what happens when you go against the king. To show their might."_

"_Overall, it'll keep crime down most likely. We'll see a decrease in crimes amongst the nobles. Petty crimes will still continue, as those don't relate directly to the crown," rambled Aedan. He was trying not to think of what was coming next. Victor had already been lowered into the guillotine. His leg and arms shook at what would come next. Still the royal advisor babbled on, while a bead of sweat dripped down Victor's brow. __Noticing her son's displeasure, Eleanor stroked his head and leaned her own against Aedan's shoulder. She used to do this to him when he was young; she had always joked that he was just a like a mabari hound, that if you pet him enough he'd calm down. Aedan's twitching stopped and his breathing calmed. __With a sad smile without looking into her son's eyes, Eleanor asked, "You wouldn't have killed those men...back in Bann Alfstanna's manor?"_

"_Probably not, to be honest. The idea of robbing someone else of their life...seems wrong. When I think of someone else, I think of the fact they could have had a mother like you, or a father like the one I had. They could have played pranks with their brother and told stories to their nephew. And when I think about that, and what I could be robbing a person of when I kill them...I just hesitate. " Aedan clenched his chair handle to try and stop his fidgeting. Eleanor sighed and continued to let her head rest against her son. _

"_I like that about you," whispered Eleanor, "The part of you that sees the best in other people. I wish that you'd just stay that bright-eyed little boy for all of my life. That you wouldn't leave my side and would just stay with me, with such optimism and innocence." __She ruffled his well-made hair. He grumbled slightly; he had put time into it to look good at her behest, and now she was messing it up. _"_Now look at you. You're taller than me and I can even lean my head on you. I remember when I had to carry you everywhere."_

_The executioner had walked onto the platform. Aedan grimaced at Victor's incoming fate and breathed, "I guess we all have to grow up someday, don't we." The executioner was shouting something right now. Honestly, his words didn't reach Aedan's ear, as the pounding of his heart rang in his own ears. __The executioner brought his axe up. Victor slowly shut his eyes as single tear rolled down his face._

"_Yes, I guess we do," said his mother, her sad tone betraying her stoic face. _

_Today Aedan watched a man die._

* * *

><p>The first order of business had been getting all the werewolves into clothing, as Aedan felt that the level of naked to clothed people in the room made everyone present quie uncomfortable. Luckily, the werewolves had hoped for such an eventuality and had collected relevant clothing. Now elves, dwarves, and humans alike strapped themselves into ragged pants and tunics. Despite looking like beggars, they beamed as though they had received the greatest treasure in the world.<p>

"We're free...we're finally free." What had once been the monster known as Swiftrunner now flexed his hairless hands and patted down his face. He spent several seconds just fidgeting with his nose and laughing in joy. The man seemed unnaturally fascinated with it; perhaps, Aedan thought, he had been taking his own for granted. "Warden, thank you. Truely. We will not forget what you have done for us. You fought for us, so we will take up arms and join your army, if you will have us."

"You just got your humanity back; are you sure you're up to it?"

"It may take awhile to get used to weapons and armor, but we have lived our lives as fighters. Our bodies will not forget that."

Aedan offered his hand to Swiftrunner. The man hesitated and before taking it. "I'm sorry...this is just...this is my fist time shaking someone's hand." He wiped a single tear from the corner of his eye and laughed whole-heartedly. Such an earnest laugh. Aedan had not heard such in awhile.

One woman cradled the corpse of naked man. The sylvans had torn right through his chest. She whispered something in his ear and held his cold corpse close. An elven man tugged on her blouse. Unresponsive, the woman simply clutched the body close to her. After awhile and many subsequent tugs, the woman burst into tears and sobbed. The elven man stopped bothering her and left her to her sorrow.

The corpses had turned back.

It all came rushing back to Aedan, like something had grabbed ahold of his heart and begun twisting it. What he had done to give Zevran time to get Morrigan back. What he had done to find this lair. The words involuntarily left his mouth:"I left something in the catacombs. I'm going to go get it." His tongue felt numb. As the words left him, Aedan couldn't feel anything in his fingers. Was he even breathing? The shock had propagated through his body and deadened all of his senses. He could see out of the corner of his eye Alistair staring at him in confusion. A look between the two told Swifrunner exactly what Aedan was thinking. "Warden, you don't need to...we understand-"

"Sorry," grimaced Aedan,"but I can't leave without it."

* * *

><p>He had told the others to help guide the werewolves out of the ruins to a safe exit out of the forest. That would keep them busy for an hour or two. Enough time to settle his business, or at least he had thought. The walk back up the spiral staircase seemed to take an hour, even though he had rushed down it in less than a minute. Aedan tried to concentrate on everything but what he knew lay behind that corner. His ragged breathing. The sting of his sweat against his open wounds. That serene quiet of the elven ruins. The vines that creeped in from the cracks in the stones.<p>

_Open your eyes._

His eyelids didn't respond. His fists trembled as the turmoil inside wrenched at his heart. Perhaps he should just turn back now; his hand stung with the dirt and sweat inside of his gauntlet. He could just go back to the campfire and strike jokes with Alistair, deflect Shale's sarcasm, and enjoy Morrigan's company.

_Open your eyes._

Without looking, Aedan felt for the torch holder on the wall. Once he had found it, he placed his torch in and let the flame flicker. Still, his eyes closed, knowing what was before him, he stood. He tried taking a few deep breaths in; perhaps that would help. Like waking from a dream, his eyes fluttered open.

A head without a body swam in a pool of blood, staring at him with glazed eyes. Strewn about the ground lay the corpses of Aedan's victims, now reverted to human form. Their scarlet blood painted the floor. The werewolf he had smashed the fire over leaned against the wall, his skin burnt coal black. The other whose neck Aedan had sliced lay face down, her blood trickling through the rocks on the floor like a river.

Hyperventilating, Aedan fell to his hands and felt his stomach churn. He couldn't hold back his horror. His vomit splattered against the ground.

_I justified doing this._

His body trembled. The only thing Aedan had to be thankful for now was his nausea had blurred his vision. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered to the accusing eyes of the dead. He wiped his sleeve against his mouth. The putrid smell of corpses and vomit almost made him want to hurl again. He doubted that after only an hour that the corpses smelled and that he was just imagining it, yet he could still smell it. The rot. The death. The destruction. It reminded of him of the remains of Lothering, except that no darkspawn had done this. He had.

"You were just...doing what you thought was right. Zathrian was just doing what he thought was right. I was just doing what I thought was right. Did I win because I was right? Or because I was strong?"

It was either him or them. He had to do it, when so much was riding on his shoulders. Shaking, Aedan wondered if he himself would have to make more sacrifices like this.

"Hell, if I had been strong enough, I could have saved you all. I could have saved my family." Aedan bit down on his lip. His chest heaved desperately, as it threatened to explode. He shut his eyes, trying not to look at the results of his rampage, yet he knew that only a few feet away they lay staring back at him. He lingered there on his knees, just trembling. "I'm sorry," he whispered one last time, "I promise not to waste this."

A lone dog peered from behind the corner, watching Aedan as he stood up on both feet and stopped trembling.

* * *

><p><em>Something seemed off this time as Aedan brought a plate of food down to Adair. A breeze flowed through the dungeon and tickled the tip of Aedan's nose. Aedan cautiously tiptoed towards the last cell at the end of the hallway. As he turned, the food in his hands splashed to the ground; Adair's restraints, and Adair as well, were gone.<em>

_Before Aedan could scream in shock, a shadowy figure dropped from above Aedan and knocked him to the ground: Adair. He wrapped his arms around Aedan's neck like a vice. Aedan's hands flailed as he struggled for air._

"_Not that I haven't enjoyed my little side trip here, but there's things I need to do. In order to do them, I need a little help. I have a proposition for you."_

_Sputtering with what little air he had left, Aedan coughed, "Why...would I want to listen to you?" He slapped his hand against Adair's arm. The grizzled warrior sighed and loosened his grip on Aedan's neck._

"_Contrary to what you and Teharel think, I'm not such a bad fellow...besides the whole nearly killing him bit. I have anger issues."_

"_Really? Hadn't noticed."_

"_Somebody who worked with Teharel and I was assigned to a specific case; one that is detailed in the documents you hid in your desk." Adair laughed at Aedan's panicked expression. While the young man scanned the room desperately for the documents, the older assassin smirked and let the boy worry awhile. "Relax. I didn't take them. Think of it as the first step to building a partnership."_

_Struggling against his bonds, Aedan glared at Adair. The man's casual tone sent a shiver down his spine. "Why would I work with you?"_

"_Like it or not, you are now playing a very dangerous game with very dangerous people. You could have backed out after you captured me, but you didn't, and now that's cost you. You either see this through or they'll kill you and your entire family."_

"_I guess it's your punishment to help me. If you don't, certain men will try to take this country. They are remorseless, they are powerful, and most of all above Fereldan's court of law. I'm trying to stop them from taking advantage of certain aspects of the Crown."_

_Even Aedan knew what Adair referenced: Cailan had only been on the throne a year, and Anora was only a commoner. Despite her own competence, Cailan was less than ideal. Although many adored him, there were equally many who felt that he didn't deserve the crown as much as his father. Victor's execution showed that the Crown was trying to assert it's dominance and show that it's administration was willing to do the hard things._

_Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Aedan asked, "So why try and fake an assassination attempt?"_

"_When someone tries to kill a king, all the successors are put under tight alert. The men who hired me didn't actually want him dead, they just wanted to see who he'd protect."_

_His smile gone, replaced only by a cold, business like stare, Adair leaned in._

"_Tell me, have you ever heard of Maric's bastard?"_

* * *

><p>Aedan had found the elven reception to be less than ideal when he had carried Zathrian's limp, dead body back into their camp. They had nearly shot their arrows out of rage, but Aedan stared them down until they relented. He had decided not to tell them of Zathrian's true involvement. Attempting to besmirch their beloved keepers name after his death would worsen relations with the elven army.<p>

"He died a hero, to save you all from the curse. Do not forget his sacrifice," he had told them. Aedan wasn't quite sure whether or not it was a lie. Either way, the elves believed him. They did not ask questions about the wounds Zathrian had sustained, nor of the former werewolves. They too understood that this was not a time for more rage and vengeance, but of griefing. After he had handed the body to the other elven warriors, and confirmed the elven alliance with the new keeper, Lanaya, Aedan and the others left immediately. He didn't want to stay for the funeral; after all, he was only a stranger there among their family.

Camp resumed as usual; Wynne scolded Alistair for his lack of hygiene, Leliana hummed a tune under her breath whilst she roasted a cut of meat over the fire, Shale and Sten reviewed highlights of their past battles. And, per usual, Aedan found himself being stitched back together by magic. When Wynne and the other had pried the armor off of him, they gagged at the smell and his burnt arm. Morrigan now stood over his back and rubbed a strange ointment into his back wounds. A werewolf had gotten a good bite in, and Wynne's healing didn't seem to affect the wound quite so much.

Morrigan's hand hovered over Aedan's nose, and they glowed ever so slightly. A ticklish, painful feeling shot through his sinuses. Aedan squirmed in his seat."Ow," he grumbled.

"Hold still, fool."

"Whenever one of you tries to heal my nose, it feels like somebody's tickling it. It's too weird."

"Perhaps I should just leave it broken and let the next darkspawn hit you in the face."

Relenting, Aedan resisted the urge to fidget about. He had been through worse pain before anyhow. The light faded in front of him, and Morrigan pressed her hand against his nose to check for any residual swelling."Good as new," she commented, before handing Aedan his shirt. While he pulled the linen over his head, Aedan still felt the wounds on his back sting as the fabric brushed against them. "How about the bite marks?"

"Unfortunately, the magical nature of these wounds make it rather hard to prevent the scars. You shall have to let the herbs do their work to actually close them." Ever the pragmatist, Morrigan pondered the nature of Aedan's wounds. "Tis a pity we could not get the werewolves along with the elves, considering the effectiveness of their bitesm" she mused. "Having such creatures on our side would no doubt have been quite advantageous against the darkspawn. It would have been a much better victory."

Back turned to Morrigan, Aedan stretched his newly healed right hand. "Doesn't seem like a success to me." He reached out towards the illuminated moon and let the light fall across the sword scars that still remained, despite the old skin having mostly been burnt away.

Still packing away her own medicines, Morrigan replied, "And how would you define success?"

Staring at the night moon, Aedan didn't want to think about what could have been, and just wanted to appreciate what he had gotten out of this. So he simply replied, "Whatever lets me sleep at night."

Suprised, Morrigan sat beside him and stared at the moon with him. "You're a strange man."

"What?"

"Like in the catacombs...you went like..." Morrigan clunked her fists together to simulate their foreheads together. It seemed a rather crude gesture to represent what had happened, and Aedan laughed. "I'm guessing that's weird for you since we've never had physical contact..." He turned to face her with a deadpan expression. "Oh wait."

"Tis different," pouted Morrigan at Aedan's laughter. Peeved, she glared at him until he stopped laughing. If he could not have his laughter, Aedan would at least have his answers. "Explain," he asked.

Morrigan struggled to find the words and wrung her hands. Narrowing her eyes at Aedan, she leaned in and pressed her forehead against his, then just as quickly drew back. Aedan almost laughed at her scrunched up epression as she tried to decipher this gesture.

"See- tis unnecessary- it's serves no purpose and unlike our arrangement, brings no sexual pleasure. I do not see the-" Breaking off her words with a brief silence, Morrigan leaned in again and let her forehead rest. She lingered for longer. This time, Aedan had no desire to laugh; the witch's eyes seemed almost tender as she glanced once into his. Yet just as quickly as she had brought the gesture on, Morrigan retreated once again. Morrigan crossed her arms and looked away. Her forehead burnt and Aedan had a nasty habit of making fun of her. She need not give him anymore reason to do so. "I do not see the appeal. Now explain why you did it."

To be honest, Aedan wasn't sure. It had been instinctive, just a plain expression of relief. Now that he thought about it, although it may have seemed instinctive to him, to someone cut off from society like Morrigan, it may have been intrusive. He felt the need to explain himself, yet the words to do so eluded him. Aedan grumbled. "Just a few moments before, you had been in my arms bleeding and with head trauma. I was worried about you." That was the simplest way he could put it. He looked over at Morrigan to see whether or nor she had understood. She had a weird expression on her face; her brow twisted in confusion, conflicting with her soft tender gaze.

"Oh," she muttered. Aedan took her response as the end of that and collected his gear. The day had been long and he just wanted to rest. Under her breath, Morrigan mumbled something. Aedan couldn't hear her, so he put his hand up to his ear and beckoned for her to speak again. "It was nothing," stated Morrigan resolutely, before asking, "How about you?"

"What?"

"So you can worry about me and I cannot worry about you?" accused Morrigan. For some reason, the conversation had her heart racing. Talking about such intimate things and feelings felt like forcing out a lump in her stomach, yet she felt compelled to continue asking.

"No!" Aedan scratched his head sheepishly, " I mean...you're worried?"

Morrigan thought back to the scene she had seen. Aedan keeled over and sickened by his own actions. His words lingered in her ear, as well as the ominous mention of his family. Her heart panged as she thought of something else: why, and what, was he hiding it from her? Did he not trust her? "You're okay, right?" she asked, directing her tender gaze into his eyes. To say such words felt foreign and strange, so when they left her throat, they came out quiet and subdued.

Aedan smiled the best he could and said, "Why wouldn't I be?" He didn't want to worry anyone. He scratched his head sheepishly and chuckled, trying to alleviate Morrigan's worry. Morrigan too tried her best to smile, despite her own doubts and worries. She crossed her arms and replied, "G-good. I expected you to be quite resilient." She turned her gaze away and stared off into the distance. After a few moments of awkward silence, Aedan finished packing his things together. Turning his back on Morrigan, Aedan returned to his own tent. He didn't know what confused him more: the fact that Morrigan actually worried, or whether or not she actually believed his reassurances.

Alone in his tent, Aedan curled up in his bedroll. His fingers traced the bite marks along his back, then lingered over the scars on his right arm. Trying to clear his head, Aedan pulled his blankets over himself and tried to let the warmth take him. His eyes fluttered closed as his body, drained of energy, lulled him into slumber. In the darkness of his closed eyes, flashes of the dead stared back at him. His father, Victor, Teharel, his mother-

The decapitated head of a former werewolf, swimming in a pool of blood.

Aedan shot back up in a cold sweat. The best he could, he used his cast-aside shirt to wipe of his own sweat. His forehead still slicked with sweat, Aedan desperately tried to close his eyes again, yet any motivation he to sleep had dissipated, replaced only by a heavy feeling of regret for those whose lives he had taken, and those he knew would one day fall by his hand.

Groaning, Aedan rolled over in his bed roll. The back of his hand hit his knapsack, and the flask inside clicked against various other trinkets. Rather wearily Aedan, while still exhausted and lying down, rifled through the bag with one hand. It would have been quicker with two, yet he hadn't the strength nor motivation to summon the other. Finally his fingers met the flask again. Aedan briefly remembered that Teharel had a similar flask he had kept on him at all times. He held it above his sight and swished the liquid inside back and forth. By the lack of liquid movement, Aedan could tell that Zathrian had kept the bottle filled up to the brim. No doubt the the keeper had refilled it recently.

With a quiet pop, Aedan pried the cap off. Against his better judgement, he chugged the entire thing. The alcohol burned against his throat and, teary eyed, Aedan almost gagged. Aedan suspected that the elven vodka was for more medicinal purposes; he probably should have asked Zathrian about that. Coughing, Aedan bitterly let the bottle clatter to the ground. He rested his forehead against his knees and sighed.

Served him right.

* * *

><p>PART 4 END<p>

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Big chapter. Twice as big in terms of word count. This chapter had been a long time coming, and is sort of the culmination of previous events and the lead-in for what's coming next for Aedan. In particular, it dealt with Aedan's avoidance of killing despite his forays into danger, and the toll it takes upon him when he has to do so. It never made sense to me in DA:O that you could mow through legions of faceless enemies, and yet many ingame never blinked an eye (save for some companions), so I wanted to explore a character that took this into account. In my opinion, too many videogames have hordes of mindless slaughter with no realistic, mature reaction to your actions. Spec Ops: The Line explores this, and I'd really recommend it if any of you are looking for an interesting deconstruction of the standard FPS.

If any of you are keeping up with the flashback story within here, you'll see I foreshadowed the reveal this chapter a little bit around chapter 23ish. I like to drop little hints here and there, so keep a look out.

borismortys: Thanks for the keeping up with the story, and I hope you enjoy the latest update!

Next up is Orzammar, and the next part is called Leaders. As always, feel free to review,


	36. Progress

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 36: Progress_

Aedan tightened the leather overcoat and shivered. The snow blew against his face and the tip of his nose stung. Cold misty drops dripped down his face, and Aedan wiped them off against his sleeve. The stubble on his face didn't mesh well with the rough texture of the leather. Aedan needed to shave.

The cold reminded him of Highever. Winter nights in the castle had been harsh for everyone. His parents made sure to stay well stocked in furs and leathers for everyone, including the live-in servants. Fereldan was a cold country already, so being up north in Highever meant that they always had to be prepared.

Soldier Peak was no different. Aedan stood at the edge of Avernus's tower, overlooking his new conquest. He had been skeptical of Levi's claims, but the gamble had payed off. Now a whole fortress was Aedan's. He hoped to make this a base of operations; while he and his companions were always mobile, there was constant need of influx for information regarding the war efforts. Loghain's civil war still raged and Aedan needed any possible leverage against the man he could get: troop movements, insider information, allies he could call upon. Granted, Aedan did not plan to join into the fray of the civil war. His goal was to minimize the damage as much as he could, so that Fereldan would be as prepared as possible for the assault upon the Archdemon.

Levi would outpost himself here, and in addition to trying to bring some business back to the area, he would see fit to serve as a mailpost for all of Aedan's current allies. From a distance, Aedan watched as Levi shooed some of his kids inside of the fortress.

Shivering, Aedan turned back. The rest of the group save for Alistair had departed back down; none of them were too fond of the cold, especially Morrigan. Aedan made a mental note to remind her to wear more layers. He also made a mental note to keep Alistair at arms length, as the templar had wandered off to explore the deeps of the castle; finding him would be a pain. The insides of the keep, filled with dust and old skeletons,

At the very least, Aedan had one last piece of business to take care of: Avernus. He had not seen fit to chain the man up. Aedan had precious little allies as it was, and although the man had consorted with demons, he seemed sane enough, almost like Zathrian.

Except without the annoying revenge vendetta, grimaced Aedan. Avernus had eased himself into an old wooden rocking chair and let himself relax in its comfort. "Tis good to see some young blood here. Now with that pesky demon out of the way, I can finally relax...although it seems you have something else on your mind. Business then."

Avernus referred to small vial Aedan grasped in hand, filled with a dark, shadowy liquid. Something swirled inside it and bubbled against the glass. In his other hand, Aedan held a stack of ancient notes, which he presented to Avernus.

"Explain to me this...abomination. I avoided bringing it up in front of Alistair, but when I read through your research notes-" Aedan's teeth ground against one another. The sight of Avernus just sitting there casually and flipping through the papers, unnerved Aedan. "You killed fellow Wardens," he said coldly.

Avernus narrowed his eyes at Aedan, trying to grasp what the man was thinking. Anger painted Aedan's face, yet he did not lash out violently, nor dissolve into a puddle of rage. The anger bubbled beneath the surface, chained by Aedan's self control. Avernus stroked the arm of the chair and peered at the blood spots on the walls.

"A few lives to save thousands, even millions. Blood magic is a powerful tool. I have long resisted the effects of the taint, and even old age, by its means. But do not be mistakened, it is a dangerous tool, one that we resorted to because we had no other choice."

A sinister smile crept across Avernus's face, one that Aedan did not like. "But what if we had another choice? This taint in our blood...it is such a crude ritual. We ingest the poison of the darkspawn and even the Archdemon, to gain simple immunity. Yet there is power in their concoction of mine purifies the taint while keeping it's power intact, such that the one who drinks it gains complete mastery over it."

With his thin, bonelike finger Avernus pointed at the vial within Aedan's hand.

"My research...my life's work. 200 years of experimentation, of countless sacrifices. I completed it about a year ago. Countless trials and lives finally gave me one, perfect distilled solution. I doubt I will ever be able to make it again without sufficient...sacrifices. Now that you have forbade me from doing so, this will be the last one ever made, and I have been waiting for a warden such as yourself to come and take it."

Aedan scoffed."Such as myself? You think I'm another test subject?"

Despite Aedan's glare, Avernus gave a hearty laugh, "You're no simple warden ensign. You're a leader- someone who can truly use this power to it's fullest potential."

"I lead a small group of well-trained experts. Hardly world shaking."

"Oh ho ho, but no doubt the world will tremble at your steps. You have a certain charisma about you, perhaps fostered through an extensive life in court, and the shadowy ones out of court. The different races do not seem to concern you; I saw no preference between the elf, qunari, or humans. I've met many a Orlesian Warden with a bloated ego that would scoff at us Fereldans, and many a Fereldan Warden who'd do the same to an Orlesian."

Avernus sat up and began to pace the room. He circled the remnants of what had once been his study; demons and skeletons had scattered the books and vials. Aedan stood and the center, he felt as though that as Avernus circled around him the old man peered into his soul. He had already surmised enough about Aedan's former noble life, and that was only from knowing him for about an hour. From the corner of his eyes, Aedan maintained his view on Avernus.

"That silver-tongue of yours and those wolf-like eyes. Even as we speak, you're scanning me right now. Always wary."

Those eyes that Avernus had mentioned still maintained their cold gaze. Aedan continued to listen though as Avernus circled the room, like a vulture stalking it's prey. The young warden wasn't sure if Avernus was going to try anything. He drummed his fingers against his hilt just in case.

"People are drawn to you, like a moth to the flames, because you have the nature of hero, even if you're willing to do things less than heroic to save others. It's why you've kept me alive at the behest of others."

Avernus pointed to Aedan's shield now and smiled at the battered slab of metal strapped to Aedan's back. "Then there's the choice of your weapons and how you move in combat. Your shield's always out, and you leap to defend everyone around you, even at personal cost. Reckless, but determined. People like to follow those who would protect them." With a more mischievous smile, Avernus chuckled, "Although, you seemed to have worried over that black-haired mage the most."

Aedan grimaced at that last comment. He didn't think had shown preference to Morrigan, but apparently the old mage saw more than even Aedan could. "Done lecturing yet?"

The smile and it's playful demeanor vanished as Avernus coldly said, "A warning; she may be a beautiful one, but she is just like me; a dangerous mage caught up in the pursuit of power. Just as I used men like you, so shall she. You cannot change her nature."

Scowling, Aedan chose not to respond to Avernus's last comments. Instead, he peered at the vial in his hands, rolling it between his fingers and pondering.

The concoction was an abomination, forged from the unjust sacrifices of countless lives, yet Aedan's gut made his hand clench around it, preventing him from smashing it to the ground. Those lives were lost already. Though not a willing sacrifice, it was a sacrifice nonetheless. Perhaps he should honor that.

Avernus sighed and slumped back into his chair. A few hundred years of fighting demons tended to wear out people. "You need not decide now if you wish to take my concoction. It is a dangerous item, much like the Joining. It could kill you, but I ask that you keep it. You could save a lot of people with that."

Hesitantly, Aedan wrapped the vial in a thick layer of cloth and stuffed it into his satchel. "Yeah," he whispered, "I could."

* * *

><p>Just as Aedan was about to drift off to sleep, Morrigan's hand shook him awake. He rolled over and grumbled. Morrigan's fingers fumbled with the clasps of her bra as she fastened it behind her back.<p>

"Wake up, fool. You are not sleeping here," stated Morrigan, her back turned while she continued getting dressed. An unspoken rule between the two had been to never actually sleep the night together.

"Right. Right," yawned Aedan. He hadn't slept much the nights preceding, so after he and Morrigan had finished, the man felt his consciousness drift away, upon which Morrigan had yanked it right back.

Morrigan pulled a necklace over her head, its silver chains clinking. Aedan had gotten it for her at a recent town they had passed by; she had made several longing glances at it while passing by the jewelry booth, and Aedan had surprised her with it later that day. Although she had tried not to seem excited, Aedan took it as a good sign that she was wearing it now.

"Sorry," mumbled Aedan, who rubbed his hands against his face to help himself wake up." Haven't been sleeping well lately- just sort of drifted off again." Again and again he buried his face in his hands, trying to shake himself awake.

"Perhaps it is a side effect of your atrocious eating habits."

"What do you mean 'atrocious' habits?"

"Sorry, I meant just the one: you eat just meat."

"And bread...you can't forget bread."

"Yes...meat and bread," said Morrigan, scowling at his grin, "One might think if the darkspawn don't kill you, the excess of fat clogging your veins will." She huffed and folded up her blanket. "You should eat better."

Wanting to change the subject, Aedan threw out the first thing that came to mind as he slipped his trousers back on. "How does the translation of your mother's tome go? I haven't heard you talk about it in awhile."

Morrigan paused for a moment. The question had caught her off guard. "Yes...I have not done translation work on it in quite some time."

"Oh," replied Aedan, looking away and stifling a laugh. Morrigan whipped around at him. Her hair, still undone, grazed his face, tickling his nose. "'Oh' what? Do you have something you wish to say?" she growled, ferocity in her voice.

"Thought you were more powerful and wiser than other mage," teased Aedan,"and yet you can't even translate one measly tome?"

"Well...whose fault do you think that is? First off, the sheer amount of injuries you sustain, because apparently you have not heard of dodging. Afterwards, you insist that I, not Wynne, be the one who heals you."

"I like your healing better."

"How is one healing different from another?"

Aedan squinted his eyes and raised his hands in front of him "Wynne's healing is more like this." He clicked with his tongue as he moved his hands up and down rhythmically. "Yours is more like this."He started moving his hands in circles and humming under his breath, making extremely concentrated face as he did so.

Morrigan gaped at him in utter disbelief as Aedan continued his imitation of magic. He glanced once at her and tried to look away as the edges of his mouth curved upwards mischievously.

"You are mocking me!" fumed Morrigan, who hit him on the shoulder while Aedan burst out laughing. She continued to hit him while he half-heartedly blocked her palm. "There are very few who would dare mock a mage's magic."

"Sorry sorry sorry," he laughed, raising his arm up to try and stop the barrage of blows. Eventually, Morrigan relented and

"I know very well that you are not," she pouted, then continuing on her rant, "And after I heal you, you insist on hovering around me and yapping like a dog by the fire."

"If you didn't want me to talk, you wouldn't answer."

Ignoring him, Morrigan added,"And then, after you are done your chatter, there is barely enough time for us to spend the night together."

"I wouldn't really call it spend the night if we don't actually spend the night together."

"It's called a euphemism, or did you not learn that as a noble?"

Aedan threw his hands up in the air. "I guess I'll just ask Wynne to heal me, and regard you with silence unless you want something?"

Morrigan made a sour expression. "Tis not what I was saying." The mage jabbed him directly on his chest. "I am saying do not blame me when it is your own fault."

"How about this," said Aedan, flicking away her finger. "I'll leave you alone tomorrow so you can make some good headway on that translation. How about that?"

Morrigan smiled. It was good that Aedan understood the importance of her mother's grimoire and that she finish translating it. "That is suitable."

* * *

><p><em>"Wait, what? Maric has a bastard?"<em>

_Adair released his grip on Aedan, and pointed him to the chair. Aedan had the funny feeling if he made a run for it, he'd be dead in seconds. Complying with Adair's request, the rather tired noble slouched down in the wooden chair. Even though he was in his family's dungeon, Aedan felt like he was the prisoner here, not Adair._

_Adair gazed outside through the small opening in the dungeon wall, meant to give prisoners some semblance of the daylight. The moonlight hit his unshaved, scarred face. His expression was hard to read, as the man's unkempt black hair covered most of his eyes. Aedan surmised that it had been a long time since Adair had seen a barber._

_"It's a very well kept secret. In a monarchy like Ferelden, the very existence of a bastard threatens the throne or saves it from existance. When they're not needed, they're a disgrace, and when they're needed everyone calls for him."_

_"How do you even know this?" To say that he wasn't interested simply wouldn't be true: Maric, the great and honorable King Maric, having a bastard? Even though Aedan could die the next second, he still wanted to know more._

_"I am currently under the employment of a certain individual who believes that one exists."_

_"Well, so if I believe things, that'll make it true?" Aedan scoffed and clapped his hands together. "Well I'm actually a legendary Grey Warden who slays dragons in his spare time. Wonder if I'll get the back pay that's owed me."_

_Adair scowled at the young noble's glib words."You are quite a talker, aren't you?"_

_"Sorry, usually when an assassin is sitting across from me I get a little nervous. I don't really have that many assassin friends."_

_Ignoring Aedan's nervous outburst, Adair continued on."Well, if you believe something is true, you'll do what it takes to confirm such. My employer sent Victor to fake an assassination attempt. His logic was that Maric would take the appropriate steps to secure his bloodline after such a brush with death. Unfortunately, the king ended up dying a week later, so the Fereldan government's main concern was Cailan's transition to the throne, not securing any bloodlines. After that failed, he then sought me out."_

_Aedan tried his best to stay calm despite the man sitting across from him. He looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, but to no avail. Adair's words however interested him. "Who is your employer?"_

_"I don't know. Whoever my employer is, he has resources enough to track me down with mercenaries when everyone else believed me dead, just to deliver a letter and money. I think he may even be one of the men who hired Teharel and I originally, back when Maric originally ascended the throne, as he had knowledge about some of our operations- including one I didn't even know about. Apparently one of our members was tasked with hiding a certain bastard. It wasn't specified whose it was, but it was important enough that it had to be kept under wraps." Adair scratched his beard rather roughly and some skin flakes came out. Aedan tried not to think about this man's distinct lack of hygiene and looked away._

_"So what? I help you and your employer find this bastard and let you do Maker knows what with him- and you don't even know who your employer is? That's just great, ain't it, could even be the bloody Orlesians."_

_"While my employer pays me, that doesn't necessarily mean I'm loyal to him. I want to find this bastard on my own, and make sure there are no more trails tracing back to him."_

_"So you're trying to play him." Aedan shifted uncomfortably in place as he tried to nudge himself further from Adair. Maybe he could make a run for it. He tried moving his chair closer and closer to the door, while Adair looked away outside._

_"And no doubt he knows it, but he and I must cooperate if either of us wish to get what we want."_

_"You could just, you know, not look for the bastard."_

_"Then he'd send others. He asked me for two reasons: he knows that I'm the best, and he believes whole-heartedly he can outmaneuver me."_

_'"How do I know you aren't just lying to me?"_

_Adair pulled on Aedan's chair and dragged it back to him. In the momentary darkness while Aedan blinked, a dagger flashed underneath his throat. The only evidence it had happened was a small trickle of blood down Aedan's throat from where the dagger had grazed him. Adair's calloused hands gripped Aedan's throat like a vice._

_"I could have killed you and taken the documents, then brought them to him. It'd be easy, like killing a small animal."_

_Adair grinned and patted Aedan on the head, like he would a dog. The young man, frozen in utter fear, watched as Adair picked a ragged cloak and wrapped it around himself._

_"Meet me at the Gnawed Noble in three days at closing time," barked Adair, "and bring the documents. If not, I'll slaughter your entire family. Even if you don't believe me, I'll get what I want either way."_

* * *

><p>Scaled, corrupted claws rushed towards him. A breath of dark purple fire that sizzled the very air around it. The archdemon's eyes stared right at him, looking into his very soul. Aedan's heart slammed against his chest as his vision blurred. The very creature at the end of it watched him. Was this a dream, or did it truly see him? It's mouth gaped open, revealing a cascade of rotting, decrepit fangs, and it lunged forward and-<p>

"Aedan, wake up-"

Cold hands clasped onto his back, shocking him back into the world. Startled, Aedan retreated backwards in the darkness. Still in a cold sweat, his chest heaving up and down, it took a second for Aedan for his eyes to adjust and see who it was: familiar outline that accompanied him during the nights

"What do you need, Morrigan? I had just gotten to sleep," he breathed, still a bit shocked.

Morrigan looked over the still panting Aedan. "Are...you alright?"

"I'm fine. What do you need?" answered Aedan tersely. Morrigan opened her mouth to say something, but then shut her lips and looked downwards. A little more concerned, Aedan softened his tone and asked, "Morrigan?"

Morrigan didn't answer for awhile. She kneeled there silently, just looking to the side and avoiding eye contact with Aedan. She fiddled with her hands and she bit her lip in thought. Clearly something had shaken her; why else would she be so reluctant to speak, and come and try and wake Aedan up in the morning. Aedan straightened up in his bed roll and tried to make out her expression in the darkness. The witch, even without the darkness, was a difficult individual to discern.

"I finished translating my mother's book," the mage let out, before clamping up again. When she didn't answer for awhile, Aedan saw her glance towards the entrance to his tent, and her body shifted that way. As gently as he could without startling her, Aedan placed his hand on her arm.

"Take your time." he reassured, "I'll wait as long as you need."

Morrigan nodded repeatedly, still not speaking, while Aedan took his hand back and waited. The two sat there in silence for what seemed like hours. Perhaps it was.

"My mother has lived for a very long time," whispered Morrigan, finally."It is only now, after reading her methods, that I realize how she has done this for so many years. She steals a child...a girl...and raises her, fostering her magical ability until she is ripe and ready, and then possesses their body. This is how she maintains her youth- by stealing away her daughters' bodies till they wither away, again and again."

Aedan found himself at a loss for words. His tongue fumbled in his mouth whilst he thought of how to respond to...that. Morrigan's mother had just betrayed her in the sickest way possible.

'_I'm sorry?' Such words would only aggravate Morrigan. Even I wouldn't understand this kind of grief. At the very least my parents never betrayed me._

He figured that finding an immediate solution would put someone like Morrigan's mind at ease first. "Can we stop her?," asked Aedan, "Do you have some sort of counter spell?"

"Tis not that simple. To create something like that would take much research, and even then it might not be possible."

_And so the only option is...the reason she came in here is-_

"I do not relish asking you this...but you are the only one I can ask this of." Morrigan wringed her hands and grew quiet. As the words came out of Morrigan's mouth, Aedan wasn't sure if he was actually hearing them. He wasn't ever sure any child would say this of their parent and actually mean it. He had always understood there to be a sacred bond between parent and child, a bond that which no doubt was the reason he stood here today.

With a despaired expression, Morrigan asked, barely a whisper, "Kill my mother."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Sorry about the long wait; lots of work recently so I haven't had much time to work on the chapter. Will try to get an update in the next week or so. For those of you who notice, you see a lot of Morrigan in this particular chapter: the next part features heavily on the whole Aedan/Morrigan relationship so if you're a fan of that you'll be pleased.


	37. Past

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 37: Past_

"Do you understand what you're asking me to do? She's your mother, Morrigan."

"And she will not hesitate to kill me, as she has countless of her-"

Morrigan mouthed the word "daughters", yet no sound left her lips. The very word tasted sour and bitter at the same time. "There is no doubt that after this Blight is stopped, she will attempt to possess me. Perhaps she sent me along with you to allow my magical abilities to develop." She wrung her hands together and inhaled deeply. "I have no other option. I cannot do it myself, lest she possess my body right then and there."

Aedan gulped. First, he had killed Marjolaine, yet only by instinct and because Leliana would have died then and there. Then, he had killed some of the werewolves, but only when driven against the wall. Now he was being asked to actively hunt down and kill somebody- an old woman who had saved his life. He sat there, his right hand quivering. After having held a sword for so long in his hand, Aedan could almost feel the hilt on his palm: that familiar cold steel brushing against his callouses.

Could he do this? Perhaps Morrigan was just using him to eliminate her mother; become the new de-facto Witch of the Wilds. Everyone he had ever met had told him not to trust her.

With a rare desperation in her now trembling voice, Morrigan murmured, "You are the only one left I can depend on...please." She still wouldn't look at him straight in the eyes. Aedan had never thought of the witch as frail until this moment; physically weak, yes, but she had such fierceness in her words, such passion in her magic. Looking at her now, her arms cradling herself and a distant, empty look in her eyes, Aedan couldn't say the words he wanted say, what he had always been taught not to do.

In the darkness, he outstretched his hands and gently took Morrigan's hands in his. Ignoring the unease in his gut, Aedan answered, "I'll do it."

His gesture had taken Morrigan aback, but she didn't feel the need to remove his hands once they were there. Her shoulders relaxed as the woman let out a long, cathartic, breath. "It does not need to be now. I understand we're already enroute to Orzammar. It just needs to be before the Blight ends."

Aedan nodded. "Then we'll do it then."

He understood at least that Morrigan didn't want to talk about it. Perhaps that was how it should be. To talk about such a betrayal, to examine it from every angle, meant to think about it more and more. The only thing worse than a betrayal was the mental torture a person put themselves through thinking about it.

Half-expecting her to remove her hands, Aedan remained there in silence, his face slightly scrunched up in expectation of Morrigan's reprimanding. Morrigan sat there awhile longer, her hands in his. To be quite honest, Aedan had no idea what to do. Comforting people after they discovered their mother wanted to possess their body was foreign territory.

"Get some sleep, okay?" Aedan said, patting Morrigan on the back as he opened the flaps of his tent. The moonlight shone against her face, although her back was turned to Aedan, he could make out a sullen expression cast upon her face.

After Morrigan had left, Aedan clutched his knees to his chest as he sat there thinking. What surprised him was how easily he had said yes to Morrigan's request. Half a year ago, if someone had asked him to kill someone, he would have blinked at them in utter disbelief. Even now, the thought of someone asking him that sent a chill down his spine.

Yet when Aedan thought of her, of her presence, the chills stopped. His hand stopped wavering. The decision felt so much easier.

Aedan tried to shut his eyes and lay in bed, but the slumber that had once taken him was gone now. The imagery of the Archdemon had scared him witless; He shivered at the thought that if he shut his eyes and slumbered, he would see that monstrosity.

One day he would have to confront. He just hoped he had a lot of good men behind him to back him up.

He stared up at the patched together top of his tent, counting the stitches. He rolled over from side to side, trying to make his blanket more comfortable. Despite his methods to calm his mind and go to sleep, his thoughts wandered to how he might manage to kill Flemeth. He doubted it be as easy as cutting her head off. Aedan sighed and buried his face in his pillow.

At the very least she wasn't a dragon.

* * *

><p>The next few days, Aedan was wary as not to bother Morrigan. Certainly, he remembered wanting his space after the death of his family. The ride back with Duncan had simply been the older Warden talking about logistics- things to distract Aedan from the atrocity that had occurred. Morrigan, however, was not the kind to enjoy idle chit-chat when she had other things on her mind. He gave her a wide berth: let her dally about her own business without bothering her with his requests.<p>

So Aedan would sit by himself on guard duty. The nights seemed longer- like a piece of fabric stretched out too far, it's threads slowly breaking. When he couldn't sleep, he'd sit by the fire and relieve whoever was on duty. There was no longer any necessity for more than one person on guard duty, seeing as how Shale never slept. Aedan did however miss taking guard duty with others, as trying to hold a conversation with Shale was as hard as holding one with a rock. The irony was not lost on Aedan.

The faintest glimmers of the sun trickled over the horizon. Aedan liked the quiet mornings: the way the trees rustled ever so slightly, the cool mountain breeze flowing, and the gradual warmth that the sun brought with it's rays. The rest of his companions began to rise. One by one they gathered around the fire. Sten sat across from Aedan and sharpened his sword against a grindstone, even though all were present. The noise grated in Aedan's ears, but he had come to accept Sten's eccentricities, just as he hoped Sten had accepted this country's.

"I see you are up early. Discipline breeds the best soldiers," grunted Sten, whose eyes never left the edge of his sword as he sharpened. By Sten's standards, that was the closest thing to a compliment that Aedan thought he'd ever get from the giant. The qunari grazed his finger along the edge until he reached the very tip. A small drop of blood welled at the end of his large thumb. Aedan could swear he saw the giant smile.

"Thought you had guard duty. You sleep okay?" asked Alistair, plopping down next to Aedan. The templar yawned and scratched the stubble underneath his chin. His stomach growled as he anxiously waited for whoever's turn it was to cook.

"I'm fine. Just got up early." Aedan heard the slight shifting of stones as Shale turned to look at him. The golem's craggy face had something reminiscent of eyebrows, which Aedan thought were furrowed in confusion. Aedan simply glared until the golem turned it's gaze away, silent.

Clearly struggling, Morrigan carried in both hands a hot pot of soup from over at her tent. The group usually liked to wake up to breakfast, so people took turns waking up and cooking. With one final heave the witch placed it in the middle and removed the lid, letting the steam billow out the top of the container. In a fit of hunger Alistair grabbed a bowl and scooped it up before Morrigan had the chance to say anything.

"Pardon me, I am quite star-" The templar's face dropped. "What...is this?" Alistair looked on in horror at the arrangement before him. Onions, peppers, celery, and tomato slices bobbed in a light broth. He squinted his eyes and attempted to look for meat within it. To no avail, only tiny bits swam in his soup. His stomach growled and Alistair, confused, narrowed his eyes at Morrigan.

"It occurs to me that some of us are lacking in proper nutrition," stated Morrigan, "They might find it helpful to partake in a balanced diet."

Aedan stared down at the motley soup and sniffed it suspiciously. "There's only a few pieces of meat." The edges of his mouth shifted ever so slightly into a frown. He too would have liked something more...substantial.

Morrigan noticed his subtle reaction and glared at him. "Is there something wrong?" She stopped pouring her own bowl, and she held her ladle suspended in mid-pour. Aedan could feel the eyes of others upon him, waiting for his next words. Zevran looked Aedan in the eyes and shook his head, slicing his hand across his throat. Leliana and Wynne covered their mouths, clearly trying to hold back their laughter. Sten glared at him, clearly unhappy with the lack of substance in the soup.

_How is this my fault Sten?_ thought Aedan, trying to relay that by his exasperated expression. The qunari still stared him down with accusatory eyes.

"Tread carefully," muttered Alistair under his breath. "You better make sure we get more meat next time."

"What makes you think I can change her mind, "replied Aedan, making sure his lips didn't move, as not to inform Morrigan of their conversation. However, the two Wardens felt the absence of sunlight over them as the shadow of Morrigan loomed.

"You two do understand that all of us can hear you." Morrigan crossed her arms and awaited the two men's response to that statement. Struggling to maintain their composure, Aedan and Alistair creaked their faces up and smiled at her. When Morrigan failed to respond with anything but a frown, Alistair continued to whisper at Aedan, "You know...you're...stirring your ladle in her bowl. Sticking your carrot in her soup."

"Perhaps you two would rather not eat at all. Ever," interrupted Morrigan again, her foot tapping rather loudly against a nearby rock.. She placed the bowl in front of Alistair and gave him the most unholiest of stares. Alistair's stomach ceased it's growling while the templar went pale.

"Are you famished, I'm famished," stuttered Alsitair, who downed everything in his bowl in one go. "Wow! Delicious! Fantastic! I will see you all tomorrow bright and early."

"It's morning, you idiot," snapped Morrigan as Alistair fled the premise.

"Don't care!" The templar waved all of them off and scampered off to the river to take a rare bath.

After staring down Alistair and scaring him off, Morrigan's deadly gaze fell upon Aedan, who watched as he brought the bowl to his mouth. Aedan widened his eyes as he sipped upon the mixture: the soup had a light, savoury flavor to it which he rather enjoyed.

"It's good. Really good." He smiled and took another sip. The lack of meat surprisingly didn't bother him. The pain of hunger eased from his stomach. While Aedan looked away at the bottom of his bowl, Morrigan opened her mouth to say something, then covered it rather quickly with her hand, hiding her smile. By the time he looked back up at her, she had removed her hand to reveal an ambivalent scowl.

"Well then, I expect you to return the favor next time and not burn the food next you cook." Morrigan grabbed a bowl of her soup and left off to her own tent. Aedan presumed she still had parts of the book to translate. At the very least, it seemed that her mother's betrayal didn't have her feeling too down.

* * *

><p><em>Frantically, Aedan had been up all night trying to translate the documents to no avail. Needless to say, decrypting several layers of well implented coded message by pen and paper took a long time, especially having only the basic books in his father's library. Aedan banged his sleep-deprived and throbbing head against the desk.<em>

"_Aedan, the royal guard wants to talk to you about Adair," called his father from downstairs._

_Aedan jumped in place and hurried to stuff the papers in the desk drawer. His father walked in to see the slightly jumpy Aedan rushing out of his chair. Aedan his best to look composed and rested._

"_Still shaken up about Adair, son?" Bryce patted his son on the back. "There was nothing you could have done. You know that."_

_It's not about what I could have done. It's what I have to do, thought Aedan._

_Despite the situation, Aedan didn't want to involve his father any further. Aedan had gotten into this mess, and he had a responsibility to get himself out. He eased himself out of the old oak chair and proceeded down the stairway, where two heavily armored guardsmen greeted him, adorned with a blue cape on the back to signify their higher rank. The leader of the group, indicated by the buckles which held his cape to the armor, stepped forward. He seemed surprisingly young for a member of the royal guard, with neatly parted blond hair and almost spotless skin. Kylon leaned against the wall behind them, also present._

"_We'd like to go over what happened when you discovered when he was gone again," asked the leader of the guards. Compared to Kylon, who slouched against the wall, the commander stood upright, almost too formal. _

"_Like I was saying...I was going in to feed him, when I discovered his cell was empty. I dropped the food in shock, and scrambled around trying to find out how he had escaped. Other than that, I don't know anything." Aedan rubbed his eyes in sleepiness. He was thankful that he didn't have to change his story much, save for the part about meeting Adair._

"_Where's that wound from?"_

_Aedan paused- the question had thrown him offguard. "What?"_

"_On your neck," stated the commander, rather matter of factly. _

_Aedan widened his eyes. He had forgotten that Adair sliced him lightly across the neck. It was a small nick: unnoticable to the common eye. Even his own parents hadn't noticed it, and yet in one small moment the commander had._

"_Just from an earlier night. You heard about the situation with Bann Abelard."_

_The commander glared at Aedan suspiciously, then broke into a smile. "Sorry, don't mean to be suspicious. We're just here to help. And regarding Bann Abelard...he still refuses to talk. We're at the end of our rope. We may have to use more unpleasant methods."_

_Aedan grimaced. Torture was never a pretty thing to think about, let alone administer. He only imagined the kind of person who applied for a job as the official torturer of the dungeons._

"_Nothing's gone missing?" asked the commander. His eyes bounced around the room, inspecting for any signs of damage. _

"_My wife and I have checked over all our valuables," said Bryce, "nothing is missing. I think he might have just wanted to escape."_

_The royal guard leader nodded several times, mulling over something in his head. Finally, he outstretched his hand to both Bryce and Aedan."I'm Commander Connal, I'd like to formally introduce myself. I'm going to be in charge of this case, seeing as how the city guard doesn't seem to be able to handle it."_

_Aedan examined the man briefly as he shook Connal's hand. Unlike Kylon, who seemed stressed and irritated to the point where he had gotten crow's feet at a young age, Connal had a certain radiance about him. His smile, although very subtle, looked truthful and genuinely glad. Perhaps the man enjoyed his work._

"_Good. I'd rather stick to catching thieves and keeping gangs in check than this shady business," muttered Kylon, "I certainly can't leave the Market District in the care of my subordinates, the bloody incompetant bastards."_

_Aedan snickered at the mention of bastards. Unlike the city guard, the royal guard garnered a much higher level of respect from the city. Most anybody could be placed into the city guard, including but not limited to the various bastards that various Fereldan nobles had fostered. Aedan wondered he could have met Maric's bastard already, well hidden amongst the guards. He shook his head at the thought; he doubted that they would be so foolish as to keep him close in the city._

"_Faith in your followers is a characteristic of a good leader, Kylon," chided Connal. Aedan chuckled under his breath-it felt odd to see someone younger than Kylon teach him a lesson._

* * *

><p>Alistair marveled at the insides of Orzammar, having just made his way past the grand entrances. The city housed as many citizens as Denerim, and yet manage to fit it all underground. Like the streets of Denerim, the alleyways of Orzammar bustled with life and merchants on the streets. Some of the dwarves looked at the wide-eyed Alistair and rolled their eyes: another surfacer.<p>

"Amazing that they all don't develop claustrophobia or something. Wonder what happen if the ceiling caved?" mused Alistair in earshot of the dwarves. He snickered at their eye-rolling and carried on with his wonderment.

Aedan approached from behind and placed his hand on Alistair's shoulder."Be careful here, Alistair. While Grey Wardens are well respected, we're going to be playing with the dwarven politicians... they don't like it when outsiders interfere." He glared around a bit. More people were staring at them than Aedan felt comfortable with. Back at Soldier's Keep, he and Alistair had picked up standard issue Grey Warden armor. Certainly, in Denerim and surface villages they would need to keep their insignia covered, but here in Orzammar the logo could only help them. Painted across their chest though slighly dented and chipped due to the age of the armor, were the dual gryphons, their wings gloriously outstretched. Aedan failed to understand why the Warden would put the chalice in the middle though, as not many people actually knew of the Joining.

A large crowd of dwarves had begun to amass near the feet of Shale. The golem shifted uncomfortably as the dwarves looked upon the construct with wonderment. One child even began to run his hands against Shale's craggy metal feet. Panicking, Aedan hastily stepped inbetween the dwarves and Shale. Despite having very few expressions, Aedan didn't even need to look at Shale to know this sort of thing infuriated it. Years of being a statue would leave anyone bitter to prodding. Aedan shooed off the dwarven child, although all the other dwarves remained.

"You're Grey Wardens, right? Did you come from the deep roads? Did you?" asked one merchant excitedly. "They all said Branka was crazy, but here it is- an actual functioning golem."

"Sorry, we came from the surface." Aedan cringed as the dwarve's shoulders slumped.

"Oh," said the drawf, his smile dissipating along with the rest of the crowd. He eyed the golem up and down suspiciously. "Then how did you get this- never mind. You surfacers probably already broke it somehow."

"Perhaps I should break you somehow," replied Shale curtly. The merchant's eyes widened in fear, and he took a few nervous steps backward, before running off back to his cart. Aedan scratched his chin and pondered: the dwarve's comment had gotten him thinking. "The dwarves used to make golem. Now that I think about, we don't really know that much about where you came from, Shale."

"It should not waste it's time. I remember nothing before the Mage Wilhelm found me...nothing but darkness."

"Oh. Seems sorta sad."

"Sad?" Shale crooked it's head toward Aedan and tilted it sideways, "I am a golem. I do not feel the same sentiments as you."

"A past...is an important thing to remember, Shale," mused Aedan. "It's what made you." He rubbed his right arm and reminisced while Shale considered his words.

"Hammers and anvils made me into what I am," responded Shale, "There is no doubt to that."

"I mean as a person."

"Ha! I don't need such a thing. I'm a golem; I don't need to grow as a person like you humans."

"Have it your way." Aedan decided to let Shale handle it's own problems. Despite it's words, the golem kept peering around at the entire city, even more so than Alistair. He didn't want to linger on the subject and get Shale's hopes up at finding anything.

Whiling navigating through the bustling streets of Orzammar, Aedan grunted beneath his armor: the steam and furnaces of Orzammar had ensured his clothing was drenched in sweat. For all intents and purposes, he might as well have just stuck dinner in his armor to cook. Leaning against the nearby railing, Aedan loosened his gauntlets off and stared off into the molten metal below him. He felt a cool breeze as Morrigan walked past him and leaned against the railing next to him as well.

"You mind just walking back and forth behind me? It's sorta warm here." Aedan dabbed the sweat from his forehead using his armor rag. He didn't particularly care at this point that it was drenched in grease and blood; he just wanted some part of his body to be dry.

Scoffing at his request, the witch replied, "Coming from the one telling me only a few weeks ago to wear more layers." The witch rolled up her one sleeve and stuffed it by her waist. She watched as a royal guardsmen passed by a crier for Bhelen. The guardsmen rudely walked into the crier's shoulder, sending the papers he had been handing out flying everywhere. As the crier scampered about trying to pick them up, Morrigan scowled. "These dwarves squabbling over their precious Houses. Fools. They delay us even more, over a non-existant threat. At least the others had actual problems."

"Thought you were always one for the pursuit of power."

"Actual power, not this facade. For one, they waste so much potential soldiers by restricting others to become soldiers, others who are far more capable."

"You're talking about the casteless. The branded."

"Yes, and the casteless are even more the fools to allow themselves to be corralled by the warrior castes and nobles."

"They don't have a choice though. The warrior and noble caste have superior weapons and armor, as are better fed and prepared."

"They could fight."

"They'd die."

"Better to live a life well than to die a life barely lived." Morrigan turned to him in disbelief, her head shaking. "You approve of this utter stupidity?"

"No...but I understand why it hasn't changed. It's so deeply ingrained in them: in their culture, in their environment, in their upbringing. It's hard for people to change."

"Yes, that much is true. Tis hard to change from their life of frivolity and riches." She gazed outwards, not really looking at the scenery, a nostalgic look in her eyes. "There was this one time I ventured out beyond the Wilds as a child; the first time in fact. There were so many people, so many different smells and foods. I had only ever caught glimpses of different people."

"There was a little noble girl, carrying a golden mirror. It was beautiful, with such intricate gold lining and covered in jewels."

"Can't imagine Flemeth was pleased."

"When she found out what I had did, she took the mirror and smashed it to the ground. She screamed at me that such luxuries were meaningless, that I could have gotten myself discovered over such a pointless thing. My mother ingrained into me that day that beauty and riches are meaningless."

"Not a bad lesson to learn," muttered Aedan. Despite being second only to the king and one of the richest men in Fereldan, his father had been taken down by a weasel like Howe. Then again, Aedan didn't consider Howe in anyway powerful. Like Howe had clung to Aedan's father before, fawning over him, he now clung to Loghain.

"How are you feeling...about her now?" It seemed rude to ask such a question, but Aedan wondered why Morrigan didn't look as down as he expected.

"Tis strange." Morrigan played with a stray sweaty bang that lingered over her forehead as she spoke, "She has betrayed me. She has made me question every action she had ever taken...but..."

"But?"

"She still raised. Fed me. Protected me. Taught me. Despite my discovery, despite what she plans to do..." Morrigan sighed and twisted her bangs in thought. "She is still my mother, and I am thankful for what she has taught me."

Aedan avoided asking her anymore probing questions about the topic. He wouldn't want others to probe onto his own personal affairs. They let the clanging of hammers against anvils fill the silence, until Morrigan asked, "Tell me of your own mother."

"Why? There's nothing much to tell," said Aedan, attempting to navigate around the subject.

"Tis only fair. You prod me with all your inane questions." The witch scooted over and nudged him with her elbow. "Come on. A story for a story." She laughed and continued to prod him in the side.

It had been the first time in awhile someone had asked him about his family in awhile- actually asked him. Not like the awkward first meetings between strangers where they'd ask half-heartedly- "You have family?". Not like when Kylon had asked him back at the Pearl, with a strange mix of pity. Not like when Zevran would ask him how he'd avenge them.

She asked, not questioning their existence or under the assumption they were dead, to just talk about them.

Aedan made a sour sort of face while thinking of an appropriate story. Compared to Morrigan's tales of the wilds, of the magic that her mother performed and the legend she had been in, his own mother seemed tame in comparison. Finally, Aedan just decided to go with the first thing that came to mind.

"There was this one time, I had gone outside all day in the woods to play in the woods with my brother. By the time we came back, we were covered in all sorts of leaves and mud."

"We probably looked disgusting. As we walked into the castle, our mother had the most horrified look on her face. She screamed at to go take a bath and go to our rooms, but Fergus and I were so scared we ran off around the castle. So there my mother was, chasing us around the castle to take a bath while we got our muddy footprints everywhere. If she had just calmed down and stopped chasing us, we would have stopped, but she just kept chasing us. By the time she caught us, she was so drenched in sweat that she said, "I'll be taking the bath first.""

The laughter arose naturally from deep within his chest as a warm feeling crept through Aedan. He smiled and looked far off in remembrance.

"...Was there a point to that?" Morrigan furrowed her brow in confusion, expecting there to be more to the tale other than frivolity."

"There doesn't need to be a point to every story. I just thought it was funny."

A rare smile fell across Morrigan's face."Well, I certainly can imagine you causing havoc for others." Morrigan glanced over at Aedan's cheerful disposition, a question on the tip of her tongue. Would he answer now, with his brightened spirits? Her curiosity got the better of her: with a bit more hesitance, Morrigan asked, "Did I hear mention of a brother?"

"Yes, well..." Aedan trailed off and looked around for something to change the subject. Luckily for him, Shale was once again being swarmed by dwarven merchants. "I should go." The warden scampered off to shoo off the dwarves, who at the moment were appraising Shale. Glancing over at the commotion, Morrigan leaned over the edge of the railing and grumbled.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Sorry for the later chapter, it's a bit longer to make up for it. Forgot to respond to review last time, so I'll do that now.

beattiematt7: Glad you liked 35; favorite and hardest one to write so far.

Guest: If you like Orzammar, you'll really like the next chapter when we meet Bhelen and Harrowmont.

Guest: Glad you like the side plot and the enriching! I try to add as much side-stuff/character thoughts as I can because you can have no plot-twists in regard to the Origins storyline.

Guest: The concotion plays an important role, especially in regards to the decisions Aedan has to make soon. As for the short leash, I always liked the Morrigan/Warden romance story because of how it's almost in reverse, unlike other Bioware romances.

Guest: ":L"? Sounds like something didn't sit right with you for CH35. The ending is intended to be disconcerting, but if you have any specific complaints/criticism over writing style/other things, I'll be glad to hear them out.

As always, don't be shy and leave a review/constructive criticism. If you really liked/disliked something, let me know!


	38. Broken

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 38: Broken_

The thought had crossed Aedan's mind whilst traveling. One day, along the line, he'd taste his old life once again. Bureaucracy was unavoidable. One day he'd have to sit down with a politician and play nice. He'd pretend to laugh at their jokes, listen to their big speech. All of it was a prelude of course. The small talk blurred away in Aedan's ears whilst the politicians would drone on and on. They'd talk about some extravagant party they had just thrown, or some gossip about some lady he didn't particularly care for. Aedan would stare at a spot on the wall directly behind them to give them some semblance of his interest.

What always awoke him from his boredom was always something along the same lines- the same place many of his conversations had gone. The truth of what they wanted.

"I need you to do something for me," asked Harrowmont, sipping his glass of wine and leaning back in his chair.

Sighing, Aedan finished off his glass and set it on the table. "You want me to help you against Bhelen, I'm guessing." The last few droplets of dark red wine swirled at the bottom of the custom blown glass. At the very least, Harrowmont was asking for him, not just his father. As a child, many nobles attempted to chat Aedan up and curry his favor. They'd bring toys, invite him to parties, and flatter him. As a child, Aedan ate it all up and basked in the attention. But after the party had ended, or the toys had been played with, the same kind of remarks would always be made. "Could you ask your father..." or "You'll put in a good word with your fath..."

Over time, he'd grown tired of it. Tired of dealing with politicians and particular conspiracies. Tired of a life being the courier for requests for his father, the Teyrn of Highever, or his brother, the future Teyrn. Now he had finally gotten a life of adventuring and protecting people. He had always thought would make him happy.

Sitting there in the undersized dwarven chair, his eyes drooping from his lack of sleep and blood caked on his greaves, Aedan wasn't sure what made him happy anymore. The depressing thought made Aedan instinctively look down at his almost empty wine glass for refuge. As his eyes lay upon the red droplets, the images of blood shot through his head. A cold feeling ran through his fingers. Aedan's hands felt wet with blood.

A dizzy feeling overtook him. His stomach lurched and Desperately, Aedan patted by his waist for his sword hilt and clenched it under the table. He felt the sickness leave him and his heart slow.

_What the hell was that? _

The dwarven politician tilted his head, confused at Aedan's sour face. Aedan weakly smiled and said, "Sorry, just some stomach issues." The warden kept his hand on his hilt,

"Bhelen cannot be trusted. His father himself begged me not to let him take the throne and fight for our dwarven city myself. "

"The dwarves have sustained our culture for thousands of years. Honor and tradition: what our forefathers taught us, and that is how I operate. Bhelen threatens to overturn everything our ancestors worked so hard for, and will pull apart our city with corruption and rotten deals."

Another speech. Aedan struggled to keep his body from shutting down out of sheer boredom. The wine had not helped either.

Truth be told, he had done some brief research on Harrowmont and Bhelen before he had come. Most of the dwarves in the Diamond District spoke quite highly of Harrowmont. If anybody could keep Orzammar from falling into chaos, it was Harrowmont, they had said, yet it bothered Aedan, how a man who spoke of honor like Harrowmont could ignore the wrongs before his very eyes, like the plights of the casteless.

* * *

><p>Having left Harrowmont's estate rather bored, Aedan made his way to the royal palace, where he had made an appointment with Prince Bhelen. The servant had ushered him into Bhelen's private study to wait. Still uncomfortable with the tiny chairs he was told to sit in, Aedan stood up and paced in front of the wall. Ancient, faded tapestries hung in front of him. Old drawings of the dwarves and golems, drawn in a distinctive, polygon-like fashion, depicted scenes of battle and prosperity.<p>

A curved sword mounted on the wall drew his attention; Aedan grazed the tip with his finger and admired the intricate handiwork. As mired in the old ways the dwarves were, their smithing had always would be the best in Thedas.

"Very nice piece. From ancient Kal-sharok, excavated from the deep roads."

Aedan turned around to see Bhelen approaching, though he had to look down a bit. A dwarven servant followed behind him, holding a tray of glasses and bourbon. The servant bowed before Aedan and held the tray out to him. Feeling as though it'd be rude to decline, Aedan took the glass, but set it down on the table for now.

"It's quite a fine sword," Aedan commented. He paused to admire the serrated edge, carefully crafted for maximum cutting power.

"Anything would look fine compared to yours." Bhelen pointed at Aedan's current sword on his hip. The somewhat rusted sword, while mediocre, did seem to fit with the rest of Aedan's old and ragged gear. "Did you pull that off a corpse or something?" He laughed, expecting Aedan to laugh with him. The warden looked to the side and didn't say anything, though Bhelen could hear a low grumble under the surfacer's breath.

"By the stone," muttered Bhelen, shaking his head, "My father told me that the sky addles your brains."

"I had a nice sword, but it broke awhile back." Aedan held up and jingled the bag of shards. For the entire eight months since his family had been killed, he had carried these shards with him.

"You are aware that you're in the greatest smithing center in Thedas?" stated Bhelen, "Here, I'll refer you to a merchant I know. He's in one of the back alleys, but he's damn good." The prince walked with a manner that befitted royalty: his head held up high and his shoulders square, ingrained into him by years of posture lessons. Aedan too remembered his elderly tutor teaching him how to stand up straight. The prince reached his desk and pulled out an frilled quill that had a shine of iridescent blue to it.

"Surprised someone like you knows a merchant personally." Aedan peered over at Bhelen's writing. With perfect calligraphy and clean lines, the youngest (and only living) Aeducan finished the directions for Aedan. With a flourish he signed his name at the bottom.

"I'm not a fool like Harrowmont. Our people are dying, and it's because of our culture. We need the merchants and lower classes, despite how lowborn they may be."

He picked up Aedan's glass and handed it to him. "You're aware of how our economy really works, right?"

Aedan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, taking a small sip of the golden liquid. Bhelen had his interest, simply by the fact that he had brought the topic of the dwarven economy up. "It's strange to think how the Carta is such a key part of your economy."

Much of Orzammar's food came from the surface, but they actively discouraged trade with surfacers. Furthermore, any dwarf who left for the surface except for on official royal business was cast out and considered casteless. The surface caste, as they were called, had no more encouragement to deal with the bureaucracy of Orzammar right's and import regulations than the more lax surface trading structure. How then did supplies come in from the surface if no one wanted to trade officially with Orzammar?

The solution to the question was the Carta, who profited from this untapped surface market. They cared not for regulations. Their smuggled goods eventually trickled up through every level of the Orzammar hierarchy. By turning a blind eye to smugglers from the Carta, a precious supply line sustained the population of Orzammar. The politicians could maintain the illusion they followed the law, while allowing the Carta go about their business. Nobody in the Diamond Quarter dared to address this issue though, lest their house be accused of breaking away from the mold.

Bhelen too poured himself a glass and clinked it against Aedan's, such that the tip of Aedan's glass hit the bottom of his. Traditionally, dwarves would clink their glasses at the bottom of one they considered superior, and vice versa. "So you understand my situation. My kingdom needs to change to survive. We cannot sustain ourselves on the Carta's imports."

"'My kingdom?' You talk like you already have the throne."

"That throne is rightfully mine and I will be damned if that disgusting little usurper tries to get his grubby little fingers on it," said Bhelen casually as he took a sip. He closed his eyes and savoured the taste. He wiped his mouth on his fine linen sleeve before speaking again. "No doubt you have heard some...distasteful things about me, but I assure you, Warden, that I am the only one that bring Orzammar back to the glory days, and I will drag them kicking and screaming."

The words that came out of Bhelen's mouth felt right, but his expression and his manner irked Aedan. The way he distastefully treated his servants, how he spoke with such anger and disgust towards Harrowmont. Bhelen carried himself so haughtily, yet Aedan knew that he had to choose him. As much of a worm Bhelen was, he was solving problems.

"Say that I support you...I'll have need of an army."

"The contract obliges me, Warden."

"I'd like a fairly large army, if you know what I'm saying."

"You'd like me to pass my proposed reform to allow casteless to join the army first. Well...while our economy may falter while the trading reforms aren't passed, so will being dead."

With the casteless, the army's ranks would swell a third as much. Wherever the Archdemon was, they had a higher chance of taking it down with a larger army. Aedan grimaced in thinking that he'd be sending more people to their deaths, but the casteless had lived rough lives. A chance for them to rise up might be worth the danger.

Aedan outstretched his hand, which Bhelen shook with an iron grip.

"Well Warden," smiled Bhelen. He had a crooked smile, as crooked as the sinister heart that beat beneath his fine silks and royal armor. "Ready to play politics?"

* * *

><p><em>Sneaking past the guard positioned outside his house had been difficult. Ever since Adair's escape, the royal guard themselves had been ordered to camp outside the Cousland's Denerim estate. Commander Connal now greeted the family every morning with that shining smile of his. Aedan had begun to find it infuriating how energetic the young man seemed.<em>

_The sun had come and gone three times now, making it the third night since Adair's escape. As promised, Aedan navigated through the crowded Denerim streets to make it to the Gnawed Noble. Even in the evening, the streets still bustled with the night time vendors. They peddled their more niche goods than the daytime: strange cuisines, novelty items, and discount items of dubious origin. _

_Not as promised though, Aedan did not bring the translation, mainly because he couldn't understand the damn things. _

_The sparse notes he had brought ruffled in his bag, not that they would be any help. Barring the accidental ink stain, the Aedan's scribbles had made sense to him when writing it, but a few hours later as he leaned over his desk and squinted at his writing, his own gibberish made less sense than the encoded documents._

_As soon as Aedan opened the door the Gnawed Noble, the bustling noise burst though and almost overwhelmed him. The jovial laughter and drunken slurs contrasted against the tense, quiet mood that had overtaken the Cousland family. The threat of a murderer with a grudge against them tended to dour the mood. _

_And yet, despite the manhunt out for him, Adair had his grizzeled, bearded face out in the open, happily drinking beer. He gave a wink and a smile to a passing bar wench with a sort of roguish charm. The girl blushed and waved his fingers back at him, before scurrying off at the behest of her supervisor._

"_I see you're doing well to disguise yourself," said Aedan, slumping into the booth._

"_Well, suspicious hooded figures tend not to be let into bars without arousing suspicion." Adair still hid parts of his face behind his flagon. He eyed the other customers, looking for any guards amongst them. He spotted several, but based on their loud shouting and slurred speech, Adair asssumed they were too intoxicated too care. _

"_I bet I could pull it off," muttered Aedan under his breath._

"_Well, hope you never have to," said Adair, raising his glass. He took a swig of the frothy liquid and gulped down the refreshing mixture. For a second, Aedan felt like Adair was just a normal bar-goer, just casually drinking with friends. The next, his eyes took on the intensity of a wolf. "The translations. Give them to me."_

_The moment Aedan had been dreading had come. "I can't do it. They're too complicated. You need to take them to someone else."_

"_That wasn't the deal," growled Adair, seething through his teeth. Finally, Aedan had enough. He slammed the papers onto the rickety wooden table and shoved them towards Adair. "You translate it! Read this here and show me how to do this!" He jabbed his fingers onto the paper, wrinkling it._

_Adair paused. For the first time, Aedan saw a bead of sweat run down the man's forehead. Was he nervous? Aedan looked back at the paper, than back at Adair. Aedan scribbed a sentence onto the paper._

"_Read it."_

_Still silent, Adair reached for his ale and began chugging it. Aedan's face twisted in disbelief. _

"_So this entire time...the reason you couldn't do this all by yourself...the reason I'm stuck worrying that a killer is going to rip my throat out..."_

_Aedan tried his very best not to smash his flagon over the table._

"_-is that you can't fucking read," he seethed. Adair rolled his eyes in response. Despite his rage, Aedan could do nothing but silently fume. Adair sipped his ale and waited patiently for Aedan's breathing to simmer down. Aedan closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Now wasn't the time to fret over the small details."How did you even write your reports?"_

_Adair shrugged. "I just nagged Teharel to write them for me." Ambivalent to Aedan's anger, the assassin rolled his yes. "Not all of us lived in fancy houses with tutors."_

"_I have half a mind to rip these things up. They have been nothing but trouble for me. You have been nothing but trouble for me!" Aedan leaned over the table and jabbed his finger at Adair, now not giving a damn about the consequences. On the young man's sudden movement, Adair grabbed his hand and wrenched Aedan back down to the other side of the table._

"_We're being watched."_

"_What? How do-"_

"_That woman outside the window. Orlesian mask. She's been following you for the last few hours. Probably associated with the mercenary group that attacked Bann Alfstanna's manor. My employer's not the only one who wants this info."_

_Aedan's forehead throbbed. Another assassin? Sweat rolled down his neck and forehead as he gulped. "Is she here to kill me?" His foot jittered under the table, and Adair glared at him to stop as Aedan was vibrating the table._

"_No...I think I know who she is," said Adair, glancing everywhere with his eyes. His pupils blurred as they shot about. "She's more of an...enhanced interrogator." Satisfied with his assessment, Adair yawned and slouched back in the bench. Aedan wasn't sure what shocked him more: the fact another dangerous individual was after him or how casual Adair was about it._

"_So she's going to torture me, but not kill me?" stuttered Aedan. Spikes? Knifes? Fire? He didn't want to think about it but the thoughts kept filling his head of unspeakable acts of pain. _

_Tilting his head in thought, Adair paused to think, before musing, "No, she'll probably kill you afterwards."_

_Aedan downed the rest of his ale and not caring about the noise he made, slammed the flagon on the table. The container shook in his hands and droplets of ale spilled all over the document and table. "Fucking fantastic," he creaked._

" _Spoiled little noble boy has got his underwear all up in a bunch. You really don't handle stress well, do you?" Adair laughed while he waved for another order. "Don't worry, you'll learn."_

* * *

><p>Aedan nervously drummed his fingers against his armor. He kept looking over at the smith, who inspected the sword shards underneath a small examining glass.<p>

After his meeting with Bhelen, he had taken serious thought to the prince's suggestion, and at his suggestion had gone to visit the smith. Perhaps he'd feel better with his family's sword by his side. He had most of the pieces, including the hilt. He carried too many things already, both physically and mentally. The least he could do was lose the dead weight of swords he didn't like and use one he prefered.

An intense heat wave blasted against Aedan as the furnace lit up behind the smith. Startled, Aedan jumped backwards, while the smith kept humming and examining the metal like nothing had happened.

The smith slid his looking-apparatus shut and collected the shards into the bag. The soot covered dwarf, grumbling something under his breath, handed the bag back to Aedan.

"What'll be the price?" asked Aedan, eager to get the process started. He reached into his bag and grasped as many coins as his fingers could hold. He didn't care about the price. He would play anything to see this sword fixed.

"None."

"Really?" beamed the warden, "I'm surprised you'd do it for-"

"It can't be fixed," interrupted the dwarf. He rubbed the back of his head and looked away from Aedan.

It took Aedan several seconds to process what the smith had said. Shocked, Aedan inquired, "What?"

"You see, a sword has a core, and the metal is folded around it in a special way. But your core is broken in several key stress points. Pouring a new layer over it wouldn't work."

"Then just smelt it down and forge a new one."

"There's the other problem." The dwarvf took a small hammer and banged against one of his complete swords. Then he banged against one of Aedan's sword shards and it shattered. Dumbfounded, Aedan gaped at the shattered shard. It had never occurred to him to test the metal."The metal is ruined. You mentioned a mage froze it?"

"Yeah, it got frozen then it broke," recalled Aedan.

"There's your problem. The magic fundamentally altered the metal makeup of the ore. We see it a lot when surfacers bring us their weapons. The most I'd recommend this sword for is kitchen ware."

"So I could bring it to the Tranquil, or to another Mage to-"

"Every mage has their own magical signature, their own touch. You'd have to get the one who did this to fix it, and they'd have to know exactly how to do it." The grizzled smith patted Aedan on the side of his arm and sighed, "Son. This sword's gone. I'm sorry." The smith waited for the surfacer to react. Aedan could only look down at the floor, dumbfounded.

"I-I-"

Aedan picked up a broken shard and tenderly held it between his fingers. Here lay the last lingering connection to his family. He rang his fingers over the dents and scratches in the old metal. A hollow feeling rung in his chest. The clanging of metal and smell of steel faded. He shuffled over to the anvil and collected the pieces that the smith had broken.

"It's okay," Aedan muttered, his throat clenching up, "It didn't really matter anyways."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Well another happy ending for Aedan this week.

_Jarjaxle_: Well as you can see Aedan does end up going with Bhelen, but he doesn't necessarily like the person himself. As for the comedy, it's is one of my favorite parts to write, so I'm glad you enjoy it. In regard to killing Flemeth, remember that some people don't necessarily like/trust Morrigan, so perhaps convincing them to come may be problematic.

_ChocolateTruffles:_ Haha you caught it! Thought the ME fans might enjoy that one. As for Morrigan, Aedan's already told her he used to be a noble (somewhere in the CH10-12 range) but not why he's in the wardens.

_BeattieMatt7_: Glad you like the chapter!

_dane293584:_ Glad to hear you enjoy, and hope the wait wasn't too long for this chapter.

_NonOmnisMoria_r: Glad you noticed Aedan's fragile state right now. I'm planning on putting him through the wringer, especially in regards to Morrigan.

As always, if you like something, have questions, or want to make constructive criticism, feel free to leave a comment in the review section!


	39. Methods

**Part 5: Leaders**

_CH39: Methods_

_"Here's what we're going to do," muttered Adair under his breath, "You'll be the bait, and I'll be the killer. Go outside and play, and I'll snuff out that woman."_

_"I have a problem with this."_

"_What is it this time?"_

"_Mainly the whole bait thing. And assassin thing. Really this entire situation." Aedan nervously drummed his fingers against the table. He needed to get home soon, lest the guards figure out that he had left without permission. Also, the whole assassin business had put a damper on his day._

_"Stop whining," said Adair, "We'd be out of here by now if you just translated those documents."_

_"Why me? Go get a scholar to do it or something," replied Aedan curtly, looking around for any sign of the masked Orlesian woman in the windows. He carefully scooted his back against the wall._

_"Aren't you nobles really good at reading and ancient books?" asked Adair, cocking his head to the side._

_Pausing to take in the what Adair had just said, Aedan glared and realized something: "You're really not that bright are you?"_

_"Go," growled Adair, pushing Aedan out of the table. Once Aedan had gotten to the door, Adair slid out the wooden booth and stealthily disappeared into the bar's crowd._

_The night market had dispersed and left only a few lingering torches to light the way back to his home. Aedan began what felt to be the longest walk of his life. Perhaps if he had a sword and shield in hand he might feel better, but the only thing he had of remote usefulness on him were several sovereigns. He doubted that he could just throw money at the problem, literally._

_The quiet unnerved him, and so did the lack of movements in sparse light he could see. "Just going for a nice, leisurely stroll, Aedan," he hummed to himself, tugging on the neck of his linen shirt to let the cool air calm his body, "Just a nice, leisurely stroll as bait for an assassin." _

_An indescribable feeling overtook Aedan. His hairs stood on end. The adrenaline-pumping feeling shot through his veins, the same that he felt with Teharel's punches or Adair's sword. His right ear twitched at an indistinct noise in the air. Aedan twitched to the side, and a split second later a dagger zipped past where his head had been._

_A woman leapt from the rooftops onto him. Her knife flashed before his neck as his back slammed to the ground. His leg shot out and Aedan felt his foot connect with her stomach; the woman weighed suprisngly little, as his one thrust threw her clear. He rolled back up and put his fists out in a ready stance. The woman hacked onto the ground and brandished her daggers. _

_"Well well, where is your friend? It's ever so dangerous to walk the streets at night, especially alone," she cooed._

_"I can take care of myself," snarled Aedan, his back aching from being jumped on. Where the hell was Adair?_

_"Handsome young lad like you? You never know when a beautiful woman like me will swoop in and gobble you up," giggled the woman, who began to saunter near him, her hips swaying, "A delicate girl like me enjoys infiltration far more than brute duels...although they did not warn me that a noble boy like you had skills. Perhaps we could renegotiate for those documents of yours in a more...private place."_

_Aedan brandished his clenched fists. "Fat chance."_

"_Just like a Fereldan," sighed the woman, "So stubborn."_

_The woman lunged. Aedan barely had time to react and dodge roll. Her leg swung around and slammed into his solarplex. Aedan clenched his fists and struggled to stay upright as all the wind left his lungs. _

_The glint of the dagger swung above him. He aimed for the elbow and gripped it and her wrist. With a twist, the dagger dropped from her hands and Aedan threw the woman over his back. Like a cat she landed without a noise on all fours and drew another set of daggers. Aedan whipped around, plank in hand. He couldn't tell her expression beneath her Orlesian mask, but he was pretty sure she was laughing._

_"At the mansion, you ended up using a bottle of booze. Now it's a plank. When are you going to use an actual weapon?"_

"_I just grabbed the first thing I saw, give me a break," he growled. Aedan cocked the plank behind his head like a bat, glaring at her. The two circled each other, until finally both shot towards each other in a blur of speed. Her daggers thrust forward. Aedan swung his plank, but for a split second he dropped the plank two inches and grinned._

"_Eat sand, bitch."_

_A fistful of pebbles and sand barraged the Orlesian woman's eyes, flung from the hand Aedan had hidden behind the plank; if it had been a sword or dagger, he would not have been able to hide it. She missed Aedan as she stabbed forward by only a couple of inches, but that misstep was all that Aedan needed. He pirouetted around the reeling Orleasian and slammed his plank in the back of her head on the non-sharp side._

* * *

><p>Aedan needed a drink.<p>

The shards jingled against his leg incessantly. There was no point to carrying them anymore, yet he would not give up.

Or so he had thought. Smith after smith he took the shards to told him the same thing. He marched from Diamond Quarter to Dust Town, looking for anyone he might be able to fix it. Their answer mocked him with every step he took, lightly hitting the side of his leg. His arm throbbed more than usual.

Sliding onto the rather short stool at the end of the bar, Aedan despondently waved at the busy bartender, eager to drink away his bar however bustled with patrons and ale everywhere, with the bartender hurriedly filling order upon order for his regulars.

"Barkeep," Aedan shouted to get the man's attention. Upon seeing the grey and blue insignia upon Aedan's chest, the bartender quickly changed his course and beelined straight to Aedan.

"Grey Warden...heard you rolled into town," he grinned, wiping the booze and various bar foods from off his apron. The mere prescence of a Grey Warden in his bar already had the patrons talking; he could use the publicity.

"Glass of your strongest whiskey," asked Aedan. The bartender rushed off into his basement stores to get the good stuff. He returned with a small ornate glass handle of whiskey and a well polished glass filled with the dark brown liquid.

What came next Aedan would never forget. A belch echoed through the room. A wave of beer breath and foul rot passed underneath Aedan's nose. Aedan felt his stomach lurch, and he squeezed his nose tight. The smell even got into his mouth, and Aedan coughed hysterically, his body rejecting the monstrosity that he had just inhaled. He looked beside him to see the perpetrator. An incredibly intoxicated dwarf wobbled in his chair, his bright red beard glistening with droplets of beer. Clearly, the dwarf didn't even care that his drink dripped across his dented armor.

"You mind?" sighed Aedan, sipping on his drink. It'd take awhile before this drink would hit him and lighten his mood, so he had to endure the dwarf until then.

The dwarf peered around to his left and right, looking for who had said that, glaring frantically at all in the room and growling like a rabid dog as he did so. Aedan sighed and pointed at himself, even though the dwarf had looked at him several times already. "Oh look. Bhelen's latest toad,' spat the dwarf upon seeing Aedan's insignia, "All you political types can go fuck off," he slurred. Teetering, the dwarf raised his glass again. "Two bartender- one for me and another to throw in this man's face." The bartender slid a glass of water Oghren's way and slid a small shot of whiskey Aedan's. The bartender mouthed an apology to Aedan and glared at Oghren. Oghren downed the entire glass of water and frowned. "Heeeey...this ain't booze."

"I think you've had quite enough, Oghren. Go home," said the bartender, pointing towards the door. His irritated frown indicated to Aedan that this incident had happened before.

"Never once have you bastards listened to me," ranted Oghren, poking Aedan in the chest, "you just keep weaving your words and trying to get info about Brrrrranka-"

Oghren continued on a few more minutes drunkenly ranting about something that Aedan couldn't quite decipher. Irritated, Aedan downed his whiskey and pushed his glass back for another.

As much as the dwarf was antagonizing him, Aedan couldn't help but be reminded of Teharel. Nevertheless, even while drunk Teharel had kept his composure. The dwarf slopped about, garnering disgusted stares from the other patrons. Finally, the dwarf collapsed to the floor in a drunken mess of armor and spilled ale. "Hehehe," he giggled into the floorboards, before releasing a foul odor from his behind.

"Surfacer, you mind getting him out of here? I'll consider your drinks on the house, and any other you might have when you come here." The bartender shook his head at the drunken dwarf and continued on business as usual. While the Grey Warden was prestigious and all, he wouldn't dare ask one of his regulars, his main source of income, to do it.

"Can't you get one of his friends to do it?" groaned Aedan as he leaned against the bar counter. The dwarf had started to drool onto the floor, and while Aedan had experienced his fair share of guts and gore, drunk dwarf drool was one thing he would not tolerate. He was half-sure that the dwarf's drool was already fifty percent alcohol.

"Oghren?" laughed the bartender. Others in the bar, nobles and merchants alike, similarly chortled at Aedan's statement. The bartender shook his head at the drunken mess on the floor. "He has no friends."

Aedan paused, letting the bitter frankness of the statement sink in. He looked about the bar for anyone else to care for the dwarf, but his gaze met none. Oghren snorted in his drunken stupor, snapping Aedan out of his search. Aedan turned back to the bartender, only to see that the bartender had moved onto serving other customers with far more cordial smile than he had served Oghren.

"Come on buddy, let's get you to..." Aedan sighed and cocked his head to the side. "At least tell me where he lives!"

* * *

><p>Aedan had never dragged a dwarf across several city blocks. He tried several methods: pushing him forward hadn't worked since Aedan could only waddle forward with the dwarf in front of him. Carrying him on his back was out the options since Oghren weighed as much as a boulder, and Aedan feared the dwarf's drunken drool. Finally Aedan settled on dragging him by the shoulders and walking backwards.<p>

"It seems the Grey Warden even offer charity in these dark times," giggled one noblewoman. Aedan rolled his eyes and continued wobbling backwards with his passenger in stow. Once he had gotten to the address the bartender had given him directions to, Aedan collapsed on the stairs to the door, exhausted. A lack of sleep and too much dwarf dragging tended to have that effect.

Aedan took a deep breath for what seemed like the most difficult battle to date- dragging Oghren up a flight of stairs."There is no Maker," groaned Aedan as struggled to drag Oghren up the stairs of his surprisingly lavish house, panting beneath the sheer weight of armor, muscle, and beer belly. "Hello? Anybody in here?" Aedan knocked on the door, only for it to creak open upon his touch.

The massive entry room held nothing but a mess of clothing and other assorted monstrosities. Grandiose stairwells and the finest statues and paintings he had seen to date were lined with a thick layer of dust. Bottles of ale and liquor rolled about on the floor while Aedan navigated the pigsty. Old food and nug bacon littered the floor while a rat scurried away from Aedan. Clearly nobody else but Oghren lived here, though he wondered how such a drunk had such an estate to himself.

"I'm assuming you live here by yourself." Aedan sat down upon the one clean chair. The dwarf mumbled in reply: Oghren had sobered up enough that he could crawl across the floor to his worn out cot, which lay atop two other plush mattresses. The bizarre arrangement sat atop a gilded bed frame, with mini golems carved atop the bars.

"Yep...little old Oghren living the good ol bachelor life," giggled the dwarf, who spotted a piece of nug bacon and stuffed it into his mouth. Aedan picked up what looked to be the only clean bottle of whiskey, took a few swigs, then poured some into the flask that Zathrian had gifted him. The flask was perhaps the most practical gift anyone had given him to date. He didn't even bother to hide what he was doing in front of Oghren, considering that the dwarf has half-unconscious by now.

"They left me all alone," muttered Oghren, "Up and abandoned me." He whipped around towards Aedan and stumbled several feet to the side, carried by his own momentum. "Well guess what! Guess who's living the life now!" shouted Oghren to every corner of the room, looking around for the faces that no longer resided there.

Oghren. The warden scratched his head in thought. Now he remembered where he had heard that name. The Paragon Branka had taken her entire house to journey into the Deep Roads...save for her husband. Left alone, it seems the dwarf had spiraled further and further into depression.

Oghren collapsed onto his cot, and moments later began to make noises that sounded like an animal dying. Aedan could only assume that was his snoring. Aedan sighed and tucked the dwarf in. "Me too buddy. Me too."

* * *

><p>The worst part about Orzammar was that it was always light out. Nighttime didn't exist for the dwarves. Always awake, always working. It's certainly wasn't helping Aedan's sleep cycles.<p>

To his surprise, one person had arrived an hour early at the designated meeting spot. Morigan leaned against the signpost, anxiously looking around for some reason. Her eyes met Aedan's, flitting away and back as he approached.

Morrigan twirled a stray lock of hair from her bun, trying not to give Aedan too much attention. "You're back. Was wondering when you'd get here," she said in a matter of fact tone. Upon getting a closer look at Aedan's sullen face, Morrigan frowned. "You have that look on your face again."

"What look?"

Morrigan crossed her arms and pouted, "As usual, something is wrong and you are trying to hide it." Her golden eyes stared straight into his, searching.

"Don't worry about me, nothing's wrong," laughed Aedan half-heartedly, trying to brush it off.

"What worries me is that stench on you-" She leaned in and sniffed his neck, letting her nose and mouth linger for a brief moment. He smelt of alcohol and sweat, and yet beneath, or nay because of it, there lay a distinctive scent that Morrigan knew as Aedan's own. She sniffed again unconsciously, the familiar intoxicating smell having drawn her in. "I have never understood the appeal of that disgusting liquid," she said, breaking herself from her reverie and drawing back.

Eager to change the subject, Aedan said, "Here, got you something. When you told me that story about the mirror, it reminded me that you don't actually have one to look at all your jewelry with. I was stopping by smiths today, and I happened to come across this in one of their wares." Aedan pulled a bundle of silken cloth out of his bag. He had saved up all the money for repairing his sword one day. Now that he could he couldn't fix it, he might as well make someone else happy with it.

Morrigan unwound the soft wrappings, until finally the golden mirror revealed itself. Her mouth gaped open. "This...this is the exact same type of mirror that I stole." Morrigan clutched it in her hands and ran her pale fingers down the gold embossed frame. "The shape...the frame...tis all as I remember it." A rare smile flitted across her face whilst she stroked the mirror again and again. "There is no way you could have known about this- how did you do this?" asked Morrigan

The warden shrugged. "I just picked up the first mirror I saw."

In disbelief, Morrigan breathed, "You are impossible."

"I thought you liked it?" frowned Aedan.

"No...it's not that. It's..you. The probability that this same type of mirror was in manufacture more than a decade after I first saw it, managed to get smuggled down into Orzammar, and then that you would be walking by it and pick it up out of the countless other mirrors...You are impossibility itself. I cannot...thank you. Truly, thank you." She stared at Aedan, the living contradiction. Society wanted him dead, the forces of old gods unearthed wanted him dead, and yet here he stood, with the burden of a nation on his shoulders, still having time to pick out a mirror and once again defy the impossible. Morrigan's gaze wandered back and forth from the mirror to him. She dug her heel into the ground, twisting her foot as she struggled to think. "I don't know how to repay you...this is far too generous a gift to let go unpaid."

"It's just a beautiful gift-" Aedan placed his hands gently on Morrigan's shoulders, brushed away a stray bang, and placed a single kiss on her forehead. "-for a beautiful woman."

Morrigan could feel her face burn and redden, and not just from the furnace near them. Without thinking, Morrigan peeked around both corners to see if any of the others had arrived yet. The streets seemed clear. Morrigan wrapped her lithe arms around Aedan's neck and pecked him on the lips. Then again. Then she let lips remain as the kiss deepened. Aedan cupped the back of her neck, stroking the side of her milky smooth cheek with his thumb. Morrigan felt his hand on the back of her waist pull her in. She pushed her body closer against his and savoured the sweet, intoxicating kiss. With each moment in his embrace, Morrigan's mind stop thinking about the the passersby and simply basked in Aedan's presence and warmth.

"We're not going to start having sex in the streets right?," joked Aedan as he broke the kiss momentarily, "Because usually when we do this, it always escalates."

"No!" Morrigan's eyes wandered from his to his lips and back. She could feel his heavy breath on her neck and her skin tingled. " Tis just a kiss. Consider it your reward."

"Well, hold up, I think I saw a dozen more of these mirrors on sale."

"Stop talking," murmured Morrigan, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned in once again and lay her soft lips upon Aedan's,"You're ruining it." She could feel his lips twist into a smile as he pulled her in again, wrapping his arms around her. She shifted comfortably in his arms; she rather liked this feelin-

"Well well well-" came a giddy voice with barely contained laughter. Morrigan pushed off of Aedan right in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Alistair strode towards the pair, the edges of his mouth contorted into the biggest grin Aedan had ever seen on his face. The templar puffed out his chest he held both of his hands out in front of him like puppets.

"'Oh look, Morrigan, let's make kissy faces when everyones not around.'" spoke one hand of Alistair.

"'Oh Aedan, how daring! Take me!" replied his other hand in an obnoxious falsetto. Alistair smooshed the tips of his hands together and let the fingers interweave. Alistair puckered his lips and made a sloppy sort of kissing noise that involved slurping his tongue about. Aedan turned away to try and contain his own laughter lest Morrigan hear him. Years of experience shapeshifting into birds finally paid off for Morrigan. Her hand jolted out, and like a bird's talon, sunk into Alistairs wrist like a soft piece of prey. The Templar yelped and jumped back, rubbing the deep red marks that Morrigan's sharp fingernails had left. "Number one: have you heard of a nail file, and number two, ow! What the hell!" he shouted.

"Perhaps next I'll aim for your neck." The witch brandished her hand again and make a clamping notion. Aedan, still struggling to stifle his laughter at both Alistair's display, the witch's embarrassment, and both their reactions, leaned over the railing to slowly exhale and let it out.

"I honestly don't know what you see in her," said Alistair aside to his fellow warden, dodging another talon blow from Morrigan. "Maybe you're secretly a masochist."

"How was fighting in the Proving? You remembered to say you were fighting for Bhelen, right?" said Aedan, wrapping his arms around Morrigan to keep her from clawing at Alistair, although his public display of intimacy redirected her blows at him. She smacked him in the side and pried herself from his grasp.

"Fine. I got roughed up a little, but nothing a capable Grey Warden can't handle, am I right?" laughed Alistair, before muttering under his breath whilst looking at Morrigan, "Although you'd need to be more than a capable Grey Warden to deal with that monster."

"What was that? Were you sputtering something about your lack of sexual experience and your abundance of jealousy?" snapped Morrigan.

Alistair scowled at her. "See, this is why we can't have nice things."

* * *

><p>To be fair, Bhelen had done a fantastic job on the forgeries. A seal was near impossible to reproduce. In the case of royalty, the seal was kept under lock and key and guard; one misplaced seal could mean a war. For lesser nobles though, forging the seal was not impossible.<p>

All Aedan had to do as the the letter to Lady Helmi. With Harrowmont's aide's seal on it, it all but completed the deception. Aedan knew exactly his own part in this: he was the good guy, the infallible, trustworthy Grey Warden. Most people believed a Grey Warden would never lie. By this point, Aedan knew that a Grey Warden had one job- stop the darkspawn, no matter the sacrifice. After leaving Lady Helmi to her own devices, Aedan was thankful that just for today all he had to sacrifice was a bit of his integrity.

"Harrowmont's supporters are slowly dying out thanks to my smear campaign," snickered Bhelen, leaning back in his chair. The prince sampled from a platter of fresh fruits, slurping as he swallowed a mango. He and Aedan had convened in his royal office, a week after the two had first agreed upon their alliance.

"We're not even going to dress it up and call it something nice? I feel sort of dirty now, like a cheap prostitute," joked Aedan.

"With you Warden, I need to be honest. You're the driving force behind my campaign. Harrowmont and I had been stuck at a standstill for months before you came along. As much as I hate to admit, I need you."

"We've done good making Harrowmont look bad, now we have to make me look good." Bhelen paced back and forth behind his desk. Clearly his idea had him ecstatic- the prince was almost bouncing with each step. "I think you might like this one. Has to do with those filthy dusters you want so bad in your army. The Carta has reached critical mass. They grow too bold, shake down too many people in the Diamond quarter. We're relying on the far more than usual for imports. It might be because all of the legitimate merchants on the surface have died from the Blight."

The warden's heart dropped in his chest. He knew exactly what Bhelen was asking for.

"So I want you to go in and kill them all," asked Bhelen while picking some of the lint off of his attire. "In my name of course. I wouldn't mind if you planted some document incriminating Harrowmont as well."

Not again. Aedan shivered in place as he remembered the feeling of blood dripping down his armor, the metallic smell filling his nostrils. "Whatever happened to court of law?" he breathed, struggling to keep his composure.

"Our laws for casteless? Leave them in a cell to rot," said Bhelen, waving off their plight with his hand. He smiled as he found a rather plump grape and popped it into his mouth, "Killing them would be more efficient."

"I am not some assassin," growled Aedan, slamming his hands down on the desk, "We can't just decide to kill people at the snap of a finger." The cups and platters on the desk shook, and droplets of wine splashed from Bhelen's full cup. The prince grimaced and wiped down his desk with a handkerchief.

"Why can't we? That's the decision that men like us, leaders, are burdened to make. At any instant, we hold the lives of countless men in our hands, and we have to be prepared to sacrifice them, or kill any who might harm them." Aedan's unamused expression, with barely concealed contempt, still unnerved Bhelen. Aedan's face had contorted in thought as memories of blood soaked bodies flashed in his head.

"They're the Carta, worthless scumbags who got nowhere in life. Dust town would be a lot safer without them around. There's no place for them in the future of Orzammar. Their dying either way." Bhelen shot Aedan a solemn look. "If you don't do it, then I'll have to send my guards to take care of them, and who knows how big of a bloodbath that'll be."

Aedan's hand trembled out of sight. Bhelen was right on all counts; the Carta would die, it was only a matter of how many they'd take with them. He reminded himself he had made this decision before: to kill to save a life. If his hands got dirty, then he could carry that burden so others might live.

_One carta member for two guardsmen. Another carta member so the economy flows, saving a child from starvation. A dozen more so I can have strong casteless in my army,_ he thought to himself, chanting in his head. He didn't know how long he leaned on Bhelen's table, his hands pressed against the expensive wood desk and his head hanging. _Fifty for an entire dwarven army. Seventy five so that hundreds more could feed. A hundred so that families can sleep without fear._

Once he had stopped counting in his head, Aedan crooked his head up to face Bhelen, his eyes weary."I'll do it."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Finally we meet one of my favorite characters, Oghren, who was too good to pass up writing his meeting, unlike Shale and Zevran which I delegated off-screen in this fic.

Guest: Yeah, I try to portray Aedan as a kind-hearted pragmatist- cares about others, but willing to do what needs to be done, so Bhelen acts as a good complement, as Bhelen is the one who doesn't care about others, but does what needs to be done.

As always, feel free to review/ask questions/leave constructive criticism. See you all soon and hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	40. Culling

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 40: Culling_

"So it's settled. Tomorrow we kill the Carta."

Aedan sat at the head of the table while the others ate. Alistair stopped mid bite, his bread hanging out of his mouth as he muttered. "Still doesn't exactly sit right with me."

"We don't have a choice. Either we go or Bhelen sends his guards." Aedan uncorked his flask and took a swig, then gnawed off a stale piece of bread. Accommodations for large visitors such as themselves were rare and expensive in the city of the dwarves, so their food and service paled in comparison to the finer goods of the Diamond District. Yet in Orzammar, if there was even an inkling of a market for it, the dwarves would have it, albeit at a great cost to the group's coin purses. Sten and Shale particularly did not enjoy the city for all it's short doorways.

"So...we're all going or..." trailed off Alistair. The templar looked to the side and played with the nug saute on his plate, nervously clicking his teeth together. Aedan could tell he didn't want to go. Alistair rarely ever wanted to make tough decisions like these, and was more comfortable letting Aedan take care of said decisions. Often Morrigan had questioned why Alistair, the senior Warden of the group, did not helm the group. In the beginning, Alistair had been openly distraught about the death of Duncan and the other Grey Wardens. Aedan too had suffered his losses, and had chosen to bury himself in his work, taking up the reins that the shaken Alistair avoided. By the time Alistair had sobered up out of his misery, Aedan had already established himself as the leader. The two never mentioned or talked about it- it was an unspoken fact.

Aedan worried though. Eventually, a new ruler of Fereldan would need to be instated, and Alistair was next in line. He needed Alistair to be as strong a candidate as possible in case that day ever came. He peered over at the templar, slurping up a stray piece of spaghetti. A stray end swirled about in the air, and flecks of spaghetti sauce flung against Aedan's face.

That day still seemed far off.

"You don't have to go," conceded Aedan, "It'd be a waste to have us represented in only one light. Go to the proving arenas and see if you can gather us some more support." He mock yawned and stretched his arms out. "See you all tommorow. I'm going to get some sleep," he said.

_Or at least I'll try to._

* * *

><p>It seemed a miracle, but Aedan actually slept, albeit only for a few hours. The sound of the smiths in the morning, banging against their anvils and shouting at their assistants, had woken him. Rubbing his tired eyes, Aedan wondered what the trick had been: he surmised it had simply been sheer exhaustion, or that his body knew that he had to be prepared today.<p>

Whilst sharpening his blade against a whetstone, Aedan glanced over at the sack of sword shards laying on the night table. Common sense dictated that he throw it away: since most of the shards and part of the hilt still remained inside the ragged sack, carrying the bag around meant bearing the weight of another weapon. Already burdened by his shield, sword, spare sword, various bombs and potions, all in addition to his heavy plate armor, Aedan knew it would be best to not carry it around all the time. Still, despite knowing this, Aedan reached over to the sack and strapped it once again to his side, making sure that the end was safely hooked onto the waist of his armor.

Today it would be him and three others: Morrigan, Zevran, and Shale. None of the three had any qualms about massacring the Carta.

Bhelen's intel had already placed their main hideout in the outskirts of Dust Town. Under threat of arms, the beggars had refused to give up information regarding the Carta, but once they had been told that the Carta was to be eliminated and they'd be paid a few sovereign for the information, the beggars spilled quickly. Bhelen had also obtained the fingerbone key from a former member of the Carta, or at least from his grave. People didn't generally leave the Carta alive.

Beggars lined the road from the Market District into Dust Town. The ragged, branded dwarfs hoped to make some meager coins off some of the more generous merchants who passed through. Although it was the only road into the Dust Town area, few merchants or nobles ever passed through save for using it as a shortcut. The incessant begging and their pleas displeased them. As he passed through, Aedan placed a single silver into a single beggar's cup, then strode forward more swiftly: if any of the other beggars saw him, they'd swarm over him.

Arriving in the main district of Dust Town, Aedan could see that even if the Carta cleared out, the entire area would need more support. Some buildings lay in ruin, crumpled and broken from the warring gangs and disrepair. The residents looked at him with suspicious eyes, wondering what an illustrious Grey Warden was doing in their neck of the woods. They were a wiry bunch, with muscles built from construction and fighting, but their eyes lacked a certain life. Some of the young still smiled and ran about, playing tag in the streets. Other ambled about like undead, going about their daily errands.

"I commend you for doing this," said Morrigan as Aedan continued to observe the Dust Town residents.

"For what?" he asked.

"You have always been particularly squeamish about killing things," she answered back, "There are things that must be done. It is good that you are a man who will do them, despite how he feels." The brown haired mage gave him a small smile and brushed her hair back.

Aedan grimaced and said,"Isn't sticking to your convictions something to be valued more?" Indeed, mass slaughter at the behest at another just sat wrong with him. Aedan kept trying to push the sickening feeling down, but his stomach still churned in disgust.

"Convictions and morals pale in comparison to your entrusted duty: the survival of Thedas." Morrigan looked him in the eyes and nodded slightly. "Do not forget that."

Aedan smiled sadly. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Morrigan: she always seemed to be held together by an unwavering focus. If a sacrifice needed to be made, she need not agonize over it, not like him. Even her mother's betrayal had not shaken Morrigan as badly as he thought it would. He wondered if she ever had sleepless nights.

The group stopped where Bhelen's map had indicated. It looked like any old warehouse. Aedan scoffed. It figured a warehouse would be where a crime lord hung out: some things never changed. He fumbled for the fingerbone key in his pockets, and slid it into the intricate lock. Several levers clicked and the door creaked open by an inch. Aedan motioned for Shale to force open the door: apparently it required a doorman to open the rest of it.

"Hey, I didn't hear about a shipment today-"

A lone doorman walked around the corner and gaped at the hulking golem forcing open the door and the armored soldier behind him. "Shit! Shit!" he sputtered as he sprinted down the remained of the hallway away from Aedan's group.

"I think it pissed it's pants," chuckled Shale, before finally prying open the steel door all the way. As the group made their way down the long hallway, the hurried shouts and roars of Carta members grew louder and more desperate- apparently they didn't have too many break ins. Finally at the next corner, a horde of Carta members awaited him, armed to the teeth in armor and weapons.

"I don't think you belong here, Warden. We'll make an exception because you have a Blight to attend to: leave or we gut you."

"I'm not here to run, talk, or negotiate," stated Aedan matter of factly before drawing his sword.

"Then I guess you're here to die," laughed the Carta dwarf confidently, before lunging forward like a blur. He was fast, but Aedan had seen much faster. To him, the dwarf's attack and speed was nothing compared to a frenzied werewolf, or a unholy demon. Aedan sliced his sword through the soft of the dwarf's neck and kicked him away. Blood gushed out and dribbled down his armor. The dwarf fell, clutching his neck.

Aedan took a deep breath to clear his head, then lept into the fray. Though his hand trembled and his legs felt like boulders, refusing to move forward, Aedan concentrated on the feel of the blood rushing through his veins. How the blood splattering against his helm and the feel of his sword swinging through the air sent a rush of terrifying dark adrenaline coursing through him. He didn't like the sickening, exhilarating feeling, but it was a feeling nonetheless. He didn't want to think about what he was doing- he had made his decision and done his antagonizing. As he drove his sword into another dwarf, Aedan let the feeling engulf his mind.

The Carta, despite being the main crime organization in Orzammar, fell to his group's blades easily. The Carta picked up lost strays and undesirables, desperate to taste the sweet noble life that had been denied to them from their very birth. They lacked a certain ferocity and speed that the darkspawn, demons, and werewolves Aedan had faced had wielded. Their mortal arms could only swing their swords so hard, attempt to run from his blows so quickly.

Zevran glided to the crowds drawn by Aedan's brutal display. The dwarfs charged from the front, hoping to overpower the warden by brute force. Zevran slipped behind them and slashed at their tendons. They fell to their knees, unable to move for a split second before Zevran slit their throats from behind. Blood dribbled down from their open throats as the life left their eyes in shock.

Some attempted to use crossbows and arrows to pierce Aedan and Zevran from the front, only to have their bolts and arrows blown away by gales of wind. Morrigan tapped her staff against the ground, letting an array of elements burst forth. From the earth and the air, stone and ice shot out and impaled the dwarves.

Finally let free from restraint of non-lethal blows, Shale reveled in the ability to exert every ounce of it's power. The golem threw dwarves against the wall, their soft flesh splattering in a mess of scarlet red. It slammed it's fists into their armor, crushing even the most well forged steel.

Aedan lost track of how many he had slayed. His kills blurred together with the others- was it that fire that killed him or the sword in the chest? The internal bleeding from a golem's blow or an assassin's dagger to the back? It all blended together into a storm of blood and carnage, the screams of the dying howling in his ears. Eventually, the steady stream of Carta members stopped as they delved deeper into the hideout. In a final room filled with gold and drugs, a lone female dwarf stood in the center no subordinates surrounding her. Aedan surmised she had sent them all out in a desperate attempt to overpower his group.

"You've made a real mess of the place here." The branded dwarf spat on the ground and scowled at Aedan in contempt. Jarvia. Aedan had heard of her from some of the locals. Monster they called her. They labeled her a tyrant. Aedan had to peer down to get eye contact with her. He had imagined based on the tales from the dust town residents that she'd be taller.

"You really think killing me is going to change anything?" Jarvia twirled her dagger between her fingers, smiling confidently, but with the edges of her smile stretched all too thin. "I've got a better idea. How about you and me got gut Harrowmont? You get to put Bhelen in power, and I get Harrowmont's head on my rep. I'll supply you with the Carta's weapons and food, because let's face it, that's where a lot of the dwarven army's supplies come from already."

Aedan drew his sword. His silence was his answer. Jarvia could only stare at the metal helm over Aedan's face and wonder what kind of expression he was making. Was he even considering her a threat? She shivered in fear at the juggernaut that had just slaughtered all her men. Her twirling dagger nicked the skin of his fingers and she stifled her pain, choosing instead to point her dagger straight at Aedan. "You're just exchanging one tyrant for another," she snarled.

Aedan stepped closer now. The witch behind him muttered something under her breath, her hands glowing. The golem smashed it's fists together.

Jarvia trembled in fear and indignation. "I'm going to tear you-"

Aedan threw his shield straight at her face. The woman crumbled to the ground, clutching her bleeding face, letting out a wail of agony. He lunged forward and with a single slice her head rolled onto the ground.

"Sorry. You talked too much," muttered Aedan. He grabbed a dirty tarp covering some crates and threw it over Jarvia's still bleeding body. He could see the outline of her body sprawled beneath, her arms and leg outstretched as though she was running, with her head tucked between the nook of her shoulders as she ran.

* * *

><p><em>As Aedan tied up the Orlesian woman and was about to remove her mask, Adair dropped down from the nearby rooftop, a splatter of blood soaked into his cloak. "Sorry. She had friends," he grunted, easing out a knot in his shoulder. Surprisingly he carried no weapons with him; Aedan wondered if he had taken all the others out by hand.<em>

"_What'd you do with them?"_

"_Notice the past tense 'had'." _

_Aedan gulped. He had heard about Adair's and Teharel's operations, about how they had killed many, but never had been so close to such...slaughter. He glanced at the alleyway in the general direction of where Adair had come from. "What about...the bodies?" Aedan muttered, a shiver running down his spine._

"_Oh, I just dumped them in the well by the Chantry."_

"_Who the hell dumps bodies in a Chantry well?" seethed Aedan. Adair could only shrug half-heartedly and flick a few stray drops of blood off his cloak. Aedan feared they might be caught, but Adair had done this sort of thing before and probably knew what he was doing. Aedan went dizzy for a few seconds as he imagined the cold, dead eyes of their corpses floating in the well. _

"_Well, come on," said Adair, pulling a dagger seemingly out of nowhere, "Let's kill her and be done with this."_

"_No! We're not just going to kill her!" whispered Aedan tersely, hoping that no one else was around to see this scene. The last thing his family needed was a scandal accusing him of murder._

_Adair crooked his head to the side in confusion."She'll kill you," he stated, as if his previous suggestion was the most logical conclusion._

_Aedan placed his finger on his own mouth and drew Adair in closer. "Listen to me-" Whilst Aedan whispered something into Adair's ear, the Orlesian woman creened one eye open and fiddled with her rope bonds. While Aedan's combat skills had not been reported to her, she exhaled silently through her nose in amusement at his abysmal rope tying skills. She spotted the bag that Aedan had dropped in the middle of the battle, laying on the ground several feet from him. He was busy whispering something angrily to his assassin compatriot, a much more dangerous looking fellow. If the new help she had hired had not been enough to take down that man, then she didn't want to take her chances._

_The rope came undone in her fingers. The woman lept from the ground and smashed a vial downwards. A noxious gas filled the area as she sprinted towards the bag. She clutched it in her hands and veered back off towards the rooftops. She cackled beneath her breath, "Men and their quarrels," and vanished into the shadows._

"_Get back here you bitch!" screamed Adair at the woman, attempting to wave his way through the noxious smoke, which masked the Orelesian woman's exit. He wasn't much younger than Teharel, so even his lungs couldn't take the high amount of toxicity. Sputtering, he picked up Aedan by the waist and threw him clear of the area, then barreled out of there himself. He landed on his back, heaving from having held his breath so long._

"_She gone?" asked Aedan, still coughing._

"_Yeah." Adair eased himself back up and sighed."Think she bought it?'_

"_Hope so." Aedan pulled out a large stack of papers from beneath his chest. "I figured she might end up grabbing my bag at some point, so before I left the bar I stuffed the papers beneath my jacket, just in case." He smiled to himself. He had intentionally left the woman's ropes undone loosely and placed decoy papers in his bag._

"_What's in the bag?"_

"_Just some of my notes and incoherent gibberish I ended up transcribing, so it'll look like the documents. They'll take some time figuring out whether or not it's just nonsense or the most complicated code ever written. I actually prepared them in case I had to fake you out."_

"_Can't you ever just win a fight by fighting?" _

"_Well, considering I can count on my fingers the number of times I've been in life threatening fights, I have to make do with my wits."_

_Adair chuckled to himself. "You're a bright kid."_

"_Funny. My parents always seem to say the exact opposite."_

_The older man wrung his hands together, contemplating his next words. He leaned against the alleyway wall and sighed, "I'm not used to asking like this but I'd really like your help. I'm not threatening your life this time. I'm asking you to help me. I know I don't deserve it. I've done a lot of bad things for the right reasons, or so I thought. I'm...not the most well educated nor clever man. I'm good at one thing only, and that's fighting."_

"_Maric's bastard is out there," he continued, "and people are looking for him, and for the wrong reasons. They'll take advantage of him, maybe even kill him. For once, I'd like to do the right thing for the right reasons. And maybe that starts with helping just one little bastard out."_

"_Can I follow your lead?" Adair held out his hand, a lone trickle of blood dripping from his sleeve. Aedan hesitated. This was the man responsible for Teharel's current condition, but yet Aedan remembered the night Teharel and Adair had met again: the pained, saddened look upon the faces of both men, fighting out of necessity, not of desire. Aedan remembered how Teharel had talked of Adair and called him 'the best of us' over how Adair had agonized over what he had done. Perhaps, when Adair had fought Teharel, he hadn't realized how weakened the elf was from a life spent drinking away his guilt. In a way, Teharel was equally to blame for how much the poison took it's toll on him, his own self-inflicted punishment for what he had done._

_Looking at the man now, he looked less like a rapid hunting dog, and now more like Teharel: a man who had trodden a rough and beaten path. Although Aedan's heart threatened to tear itself out of his chest, out of sheer fear and adrenaline from the danger of it all, Aedan cautiously met Adair's hand with his own._

* * *

><p>As the group marched out of the way they came, the surrounding Dust Town dwarfs backed away from Aedan's blood soaked form. The commotion had been heard from blocks away, and they all had been anxiously waiting outside. They cleared a path down the middle, not daring to make a noise, not even to cheer. Zevran, Morrigan, and Shale followed behind him, each and everyone having their fair share of mess over them. What had these dwarves been expecting? A shining knight draped in white, his sword glimmering and bringing light to the downtrodden town? Aedan grimaced at the horrified looks upon some of their faces- instead they had gotten a blood soaked soldier. Some others had blank expressions and simply watched him. Perhaps their lack of horror meant approval of his actions. None however spoke a word.<p>

Aedan continued through the crowd until several dwarves began yelping in indignation at someone moving through the crowd."You! My son was in there!" cried out a voice. A ragged dwarven woman, her hair splotched with dirt, pushed her way through the frozen crowd. Hot tears streamed down her furious, saddened face. "He was all I had left!" she spat at him, attempting to grab at Aedan, "My little baby boy just joined to keep us fed!"

"That's enough Shansa! Leave the Warden be," whispered another woman tersely, her eyes darting back and forth from Aedan's back, fearful of the surfacer's retribution. She grabbed the sobbing woman by the arms and began to pull her back, but the distraught dwarf wrestled her arms out of the others' grasps. Aedan kept moving forward, hastening his pace to escape from the woman's words.

"What gives you the right to come in here and do as you please!" she screamed as loud as she could from the bottom of her lungs, snot and tears flying from her contorted face."You stole my family!" I'll kill you...you...monster!"

Aedan's foot hovered above the ground. He turned around and strode towards the sobbing dwarf woman forebodingly. As he stood before her, the woman rushed at his legs. "Give him back!" she cried. Her fists clanged against Aedan's shin guards again and again. Her scabbed knees wobbled to the ground, her hot tears soaking into the broken, dusty soil. Each sob echoed with immeasurable rage and agony, rattling against the walls of Aedan's helmet. Finally her pained cries died down, and her sobs became nothing more than a faint heaving.

Aedan turned away without a word, letting the dwarf fall to the ground on her hands alone with her tears. Better to leave his helm on, better to walk with his back turned in silence. Let them think of him as only a cold steel figure with no mercy even for a crying woman, for that was what he needed to be. Let them fear his return, lest the Carta resurge.

Words lingered on the tip of his tongue: _I know how you feel, I'm sorry, I didn't know_. He wanted to place his hand on the woman's shoulder and comfort her somehow. Yet the words and gestures remained as frozen and bitter afterthoughts, hidden by Aedan's silence. What would be the point? To satisfy his own guilt, to somehow convince himself that he wasn't what he had called Howe and Loghain repeatedly in his mind, the one horrifying word the dwarven woman had howled at him?

He had made his decision, and he would bear that weight.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Sorry for the late chapter, my computer's been broken for the past few weeks, so I've only had inklings of time to work on this.

Guest: We will definitely see some Oghren/Aedan bonding, it'll be great!

As always, if you have any questions/constructive criticism/reviews, feel free to leave a review. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter.


	41. Lies

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 41: Lies_

Aedan splashed the dirty water against his face. The inn had only limited clean water, as most was reserved for the Diamond Quarter. He scrubbed his hands together, rubbing until he was sure the blood was gone. Panting, he dunked his head once again into the bucket I clean it. Water trickled down from his drenched hair and into his towel as Aedan dried himself up.

He had killed far too many to count- far more than there had been Howe's men that fateful night at the Cousland castle. Had he always had this potential in him, to slaughter dozens like a juggernaut? If he had, perhaps if he had stood and fought his ground to protect his parents, at least they might have been saved. Their dead bodies would not lay rotting in the ruins of Castle Highever.

Aedan knew this to be false though. His body and mind had been tempered and scarred by the constant battles. Teharel and Adair had always told him that for all his technique, cunning, and strength, he had lacked experience to tie it all together. Now he had faced more monstrosities than many others faced in a lifetime.

But what had this changed him into? Was he still the son of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, still a good-natured lad who believed in justice and heroes? Or was he more like Loghain, pragmatic and willing to sacrifice lives in exchange for more?

If his parent were here and saw him covered in dripping in blood, having slaughtered a whole legion of dwarves not out of self-defense, but out of political necessity, would they look away in shame and call him a monster as well? His father had killed in the rebellion against Orlais, but that had been war. Aedan felt like what he had done was slaughter.

Aedan missed the days when he could wake up in the late morning, spend thirty minutes rolling around in bed, and let the sun's warm rays lull him back into a half-awake state.

He wrapped his hands in the towel and squeezed tightly to get every last bit of moisture out of them. He squeezed and wiped until his skin began to ache from the chafing. The cuts on his hands had opened up again. Aedan wrapped bandages around his palms to stop the bleeding.

_Monster._

In a panic, Aedan clawed off the bandages and began to wash his hands again.

His hands felt moist with blood that wasn't his.

* * *

><p>"Your deeds are the talk of the town in Diamond Quarter, Warden. Everybody's rejoicing that the Cartel's finally been taken care of," said Bhelen. After Aedan had cleaned himself up, he had headed straight over to the royal palace to update Bhelen. Honestly, Aedan just wanted to be be done with Orzammar at this point, and get out of the city. He fidgeted in the too-short chair as Bhelen paced the room.<p>

"Does that mean I get my troops?" he asked rather impatiently. He internally kicked himself for not masking his tone; rudeness never helped during political talks. However, Bhelen seemed unfazed. Leaning forward on his desk, Bhelen gazed out the window across the expanse that was the Diamond Quarter. "It's still not enough though- the Assembly is still in a deadlock between me and Harrowmont. We still need one last push," said Bhelen, a glint in his eyes."We need a Paragon."

Aedan sighed and leaned his head against his hand rather exhausted. "I'm guessing you don't just keep them all in one place, do you?"

"There's only one living Paragon, and 'living' is a stretch."

"Branka," grimaced Aedan. Somehow he knew that eventually he'd have to do the most inconvenient and dangerous thing that Orzammar had to offer: venturing far into the Deep Roads. His luck didn't seem to be that good.

"There were rumors about where she went: that she went to find the remaining caches of golems that Caridin had left behind. If we could use those golems, I can't even think about what a leap forward it'd be for our people."

"Why the hell are you so excited, we haven't even found her yet."

"Because you're on the job, Warden," said Bhelen, jutting his finger out at Aedan. "This is what Grey Wardens do: venture into the Deep Roads and slay legions of darkspawn. My father used to tell me stories about how your order would swoop in and slaughter whole armies worth of the beasts." Bhelen got up and poured the two of them a glass of each of wine, and handed it to the Warden. It seemed the dwarf could barely contain himself; he was practically dancing in place. "And you...you're something else. You could pull this off."

Bhelen clinked his glass against Aedan's and savoured the wine as he sipped it."Cheers, Warden. To our continued success."

_Golems, huh?_ thought Aedan as he looked down into his scarlet stained glass and let the liquid swirl about inside.

* * *

><p>Aedan knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again, and he heard something scuffle inside."Oghren? You in there?"<p>

"Whatever you think I did, it wasn't me!" came his gruff reply, followed by some quieter proclamations of "Shit! Shit!". Aedan could hear the dwarf scrambling behind the door and hastily moving his belongings around. He sighed and knocked again.

"You haven't done anything wrong- I'm a Grey Warden and I need some info on Branka."

The hectic footsteps stopped. The door cracked open, and a single eye glared up at Aedan through the opening."Grey Warden eh?" barked Oghren, "You the one who dragged me back home?"

Aedan was surprised at the lack of alcohol on the man's breath. He replied, "Yes, that was me."

The dwarf shut the door, then undid the bolt and lock. He opened it once again, revealing his hastily scuffled away pigsty. Dirty laundry poked out of overstuffed drawers.

"Come in then, but I ain't cleaning up."

"You know what, Aedan, I think I'll just wait outside. I think you've got this handled," breathed Leliana, covering her mouth out of utter horror at the mess before her. A rat zipped across the floor, and the sister gagged. The dwarf rolled his eyes and let Aedan in alone while the others waited outside.

"You were a lot less friendly when I met you," said Aedan as he looked for a place to sit. He decided upon an overturned mattress propped up against the wall. He slumped down into it, letting his hips and back curve against the floor and his eye level fall to Oghren's.

"Well Warden, one thing I've learnt as a drunk bum is that the measure of a truly great man is whether or not he's willing to help drag home a piss-drunk fellow, and then not rob him blind."

Oghren poured Aedan a glass of whiskey and handed it to him."You're alright in my books."

"You do know it's early morning."

"Is that a no?" grunted Oghren.

Aedan smiled and took swig from his glass. The dwarf raised his bottle and guzzled down a mouthful. "What do you want to know?" he breathed, belching out a foul odor.

Aedan leaned forward on his knees and tapped his index fingers together. "How do I find Branka?"

"With a lot of lanterns and patience," muttered Oghren as he leaned against the stairway and looked at the portrait of Branka on the had it commisioned after her appointment as a Paragon, and had been hanging in the house for many years. Aedan noticed a distinct lack of dust and filth on the painting; perhaps it was the only thing the dwarf kept clean.

"Why, you planning on going into the Deep Roads?" Oghren said sarcastically.

"That's the plan," grimaced dwarf paused and turned to him, his eyes narrowed as he tried to surmise whether Aedan was lying or not. "You're serious?"

Aedan nodded. The dwarf threw his hands into the air, making an exasperated face. "Of course, for all the years I've been lobbying the Assembly to get an expedition out, they didn't budge a muscle, but once someone important needs Branka, it's go time. Sodding hypocrites."

The dwarf seemed irritated. Perhas Aedan needed to sell this some more "Out of any expedition," he began, " we have the best chance of success. Grey Wardens are specialized in killing darkspawn. We have mages along that can also make remedies to protect against the taint. We have a golem that can-"

Alcohol sprayed across the room and hit Aedan in the face. The Warden growled as his wiped the stininging liquid from his face. Oghren ignored his annoyance and said,"Wait a fucking minute. You have a golem?"

"Yeah. That's what Branka was looking for, right? Caridin's golems?"

"No Warden, Branka was always keeping her eyes on bigger game. She was looking for the Anvil of the Void- the way by which Caridin made his golems."

"So if we found her...we could make more golems?"

"Exactly."

"That could change the entire tide of the Blight- even help the dwarves retake the Thaigs."

Shale was an incredible asset to his team: imagine if ever one of the armies he had gathered had a whole support group of golems backing them up. What Aedan regretted was a the lack of sturdy armies he had recruited. The mages, although they had amazing firepower, lacked defensive training. Many of them had never been in battle, and only had fought one demon in their entire career during their Harrowing. The elves excelled in hit and run tactics, and they had far more archers then frontline warriors. Furthermore, their wandering and lack of established homeland led to a dwindling population. The soldiers of Redcliffe were just that: the soldiers of one village. He needed an army to fight the entire horde, to plow his way straight to the damn Archdemon. The sturdy, battle hardened dwarves would make a fine addition, but the golems...

Aedan grinned internally, barely able to contain his excitement.

They did not tire. They did not fear. They did not eat. They did not sleep.

What could be a more perfect soldier?

Oghren noticed Aedan's contemplative expression. He stroked his dirty red beard and grunted. "Let's make deal then," he said, offering his hand, "you take me with you, and I'll show you the way. It's about damn time I found my wife."

* * *

><p><em>Bryce Cousland sat in his study, enjoying a peaceful book-reading session. He leaned back in his plush reading chair and sighed in content. He brought the cup of chamomile tea to his mouth, taking a sip of warm, calming liquid, It was nice, not having to deal with politics, wife, or children for a few peaceful moments-<em>

_"Father, so I was walking in the market today...and...how do I say this tastefully-" interrupted Aedan as he round the corner._

_So much for relaxation. Bryce sighed and put down his cup of tea. "I can already tell I don't want to hear this," he said, not looking up from his book._

_"I spot this lovely woman with... with a big ol pair of textbooks if you know what I'm saying."_

_Bryce groaned and looked up towards the sky."Maker, feel free to take back this blessing of a child."_

_Ignoring his father's irritated mood, Aedan crossed his arms and leaned against the bookshelf. "And so I go over there, all charming like, using my old charm on her, flirting with her, but she'll have none of that! It turns out, she's one of those intellectual types. She's says "I bet you noble boys just have dust rolling about in your head. I bet you can't even understand what I'm studying.' And so she pops out one of her textbooks."_

_His father looked at him, bewildered. Aedan laughed,"She was actually carrying textbooks. Do you take me for some sort of pervert, Father?"_

_"Carry on, I guess," sighed Bryce._

_"And it's all this complicated stuff. And she goes off ranting about how the nobility of Fereldan has fallen to such low education standards, and on and on. Really, it was quite infuriating. She took a whole rant to just tell me how stupid she thought I was." Aedan closed his eyes and shooked his head in disapproval. "So I was wondering if you knew anybody that could deal with ciphers and codes and the such, so next time I see this lass I can."_

_"So you want me to help you get petty revenge and pick up some random woman," said Bryce._

_"Isn't that what family's for?" smiled Aedan the best he could._

_Bryce grumbled and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Honestly, he just wanted to read his book in peace at this point. He grabbed a piece of paper and hastily scribbled down an address and name. "If it keeps you out of trouble with all these swords and dangerous people you've been dealing with lately, I'll be glad to ship you off into some woman's arms. Let her deal with you instead of me.I have an old friend from back during the war with Orlais who should be able to help you out. Just promise me you won't get into too much trouble again."_

_"Father, how much trouble can I get into with a bunch of books?" chuckled Aedan. He strode out the front door of his house, gave a nod to the guards that had been stationed outside, and headed to the alleys. The guards on duty to protect the Couslands from Adair had been lax as of late; since no news had come up regarding Adair, the general assumption had been he had simply fled for his life._

_Aedan trailed into the alleyway where Adair stood in wait. The older man's face was obscured by his hood, and countless other people moved outside of the alleyway, hiding the two's meeting._

_"Your father suspect anything?" grunted Adair. He pulled his hood closer over his face, just in case._

_"Just the usual troublemaking," replied Aedan._

_"Seems sort of rude, lying to your father like that."_

_"I don't want to hear about rudeness from you," groaned Aedan, stretching his arms out."I have a visit to make to Teharel's. I don't think you're too welcome there."_

_Adair nodded and waved Aedan off."I'll meet you at the regular meeting spot so we can travel to the address together."_

* * *

><p><em>Aedan knocked twice on the door, and was greeted by Jarat opening up the door. The man greeted Aedan with a smile and called out, "Teharel, Aedan's here!"<em>

_"Oi Aedan!" Teharel grabbed his crutches and began to make his way over to Aedan. He'd been losing some weight recently, and his skin looked a little paler. It'd already been a few months since they had met Adair in the Alienage, and it had been that same night the mages had given Teharel only about a year to live. The old elf grunted in pain and clutched his side. Hijaya grabbed him by the waist and helped him up. "Thanks dear," laughed Teharel. The elf held himself up by the table and directed Aedan to the backyard of the apartment complex._

_Every so often, Aedan would come by and show Teharel the results of his training. The elf, although he could no longer spar with Aedan due to his condition, could still critique Aedan's technique. Strength training was something Aedan could handle on his own, but Aedan needed someone experienced to guide him in the finer points of swordplay._

_Aedan whirled in place as his sword swiped up and down. He imagined his opponent before him, dodging his blows. Aedan slammed his shield right in front of him- his imaginary opponent stumbled backwards. In that momentary distraction, Aedan struck at the right arm._

_"Too many unnecessary movements," commented Teharel, "Are you trying to hit somebody with your flailing limbs or something?"_

_"I was trying to simulate disarming him," replied Aedan, leaning down on his knees and panting. He still hadn't gotten used to rapid movements of the sword. When he had dueled with nobles, it had slower blows with more force behind them. Teharel had always been more a fan of explosive bursts of cuts and slashes._

_"It's far more efficient to just cut off his head."_

_"Well, let's hope it never comes to that, shall we?" Aedan grimaced._

_To be honest, Aedan felt rather uncomfortable being there, pretending like everything was normal. Everything wasn't. He was working with the man who had given Teharel his death sentence. He lying to his father about dangerous activities he was up to. Lies had begun to pile upon more lies._

_Not that others didn't do it. Hijaya still wore her smile as she helped her father around the house, but she too must have noticed how much worse Teharel was doing, not to mention that she had to deal with her own pregnancy. Teharel would smile and joke about how he wasn't long for this world, joke about how he was getting old, but even he must have felt his own looming death over his shoulder._

_Even his own father would hide the stress he underwent from the meetings with politicians. Out of all the Fereldan nobles, only Bryce Cousland was one of the willing to talk with the Orlesians. Doing so, however, had painted their family in a unenviable light among some. They'd whisper behind the Couslands' back and sometimes lodge complaints against their family. His father tread a fine line between loyal countryman and being seen as a traitor._

_The lies they told others and themselves, they weren't meant to hurt people. People had their burdens to carry, burdens they didn't want others to carry._

_So Aedan would smile and say it was alright. That everything was peaceful and everything would be okay. He didn't want to burden his family with the worries of what he was doing in secret, nor burden Teharel's with it either._

_Perhaps, the more Aedan smiled and lied, eventually his lie that everything was alright would be the truth._

_Once again, Aedan started slashing, and began to utilize his footwork into it. As he moved around the garden, Aedan tripped over an overturned rock and crashed to the ground. He coughed out the sand that had gotten into his mouth. Teharel cringed as Aedan wiped the blood off his nose. "You all right there lad?"_

_"I'm fine," said Aedan, ignoring the throbbing pain in his nose._

* * *

><p>Aedan couldn't sleep.<p>

He rolled up his blanket and bedroll and headed towards the campfire. If he could not sleep, he would at least stay near the warm fire. He rubbed the areas under his eyes- Aedan felt tired, yet simply couldn't sleep. It was strange- like being stuck in some halfway state of slumber and being awake.

The first day of the expedition had gone off without a snag. To be fair, save for the occasional darkspawn, it was rather boring. Most of the surrounding Deep Roads had been cleared out by scavengers and previous expeditions. Some of the Cartel used to reside in the old building, evidenced by the graffiti that lined some of the ancient walls.

As Aedan tiptoed through his sleeping companions, he noticed one of them sleeping far apart from the rest. Morrigan, per usual, situated herself away from the others, even though it meant she was farther from the campfire. She lay curled up in her ragged blanket, quietly breathing in and out. "Idiot," she muttered in her sleep. Aedan smiled- even in her dreams, her sharp tongue never changed.

The witch shivered every few seconds: her bedroll was not that thick. The group had packed light for the expedition. Most of them had heavier clothing to change into though, except for Morrigan. Squatting down next to her, Aedan gently placed his hand against her cheek for her temperature. Her cold soft skin sent a small shiver down his arm. Aedan rolled his eyes and draped his blanket over her. The witch instinctively pulled the blanket to her, still emanating Aedan's residual warmth. She mumbled inaudibly as she slumbered. Aedan got back up and proceeded to the fireplace.

Shale stood at the fire, and it's gaze followed Aedan as the warden took his seat by it. Aedan nodded in it's direction and pulled out a loaf of bread to chew on. At the very least, if he could not enjoy his sleep he'd enjoy a meal and some warmth instead. After several minutes of silence, save for Aedan's chewing, Shale asked,"What does food taste like?"

Aedan's bread hovered outside of his mouth. "Uh..."

Scratching his head, Aedan had to consider: how do you describe the taste of food to one who has never had it before? He fondly remembered Nan's special chocolate mousse, a sweet, decadent treat with a slight kick of mint and a lovely texture. She used to make it on special occasions, just for the family, never at any of the public gatherings. Yet he could only describe it as "sweet" or "minty" or "delicious"- these words meant nothing to Shale.

"It tastes good," he shrugged, continuing to chew his food. The golem watched him closely, so much that Aedan slowed his chewing at the golem's unusual stare.

"How very eloquent of it," said the golem dryly.

"What piqued your curiosity?"

"Well, simply because the Warden seems to eat all the time, and it must do so for some reason. I've seen no other human eat quite as much as him, except for maybe the fat ones."

Aedan swore that the golem's stone face, though it barely moved, was twisted into a smirk. The warden scowled before taking another bite."I expend a lot of energy, don't judge me."

"So tis merely a thing of a necessity? Or do you do it because you want to?"

"A little bit of both I guess. I'll die without it, but I might as well enjoy it."

"Hmm. Interesting."

Aedan mulled over Shale's words, then after a few moments of thought, broke off a large chunk of bread and held it out in his hands. "Want some?" he asked.

"Perhaps it is stupider than I thought after all. It knows that I cannot eat," retorted Shale.

"Well, eating is an experience. It's not just about taste. That's probably the best way I can describe food."

"I cannot smell either, if that is what it is implying."

"Well, at the very least, we can replicate having a meal together. We've spent enough time on guard duty together to warrant at least one." Indeed, the golem was Aedan's most frequent guard partner, considering that neither of them got much sleep. Usually their time together was passed in silence.

Sighing, the golem took the piece of bread and held it between it's fingers. The sheer force of it's grip smushed the bread into a flat mush. Still, the golem brought the remains to it's mouth and moved it's stone lips over it. Aedan too took a bite of his crusty bread. The two continued to chew, until Aedan swallowed and the last remnants of ground up crumbs fell from Shale's face.

Shale pondered- although it had not ingested a single piece of the bread, and Aedan had known this would happen, the Warden had still given him a portion of his rations. No one in Shale's lifetime had ever thought to offer it food. It had only ever watched as Wilhelm and his wife laughed over dinner. It had only watched as countless others held picnics under it in the village of Honnleath. Even during it's time with the Warden, it had only ever watched as the group rotated on guard duty and shared their meager meals.

In regard to Shale's first meal, Shale could only speak of the feeling, not the taste.

"It tasted good," it muttered, wiping the last crumb from it's stony face.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

And we're back. Sorry about the long wait again, been trying to squeeze out writing in the inklings of time I have. Things are dying down a bit here, so I should get the next chapter sooner.

Guest: Glad you like them, hopefully the next one will be sooner.

ChocolateTruffles: Aedan and Morrigan will definately ramp up in the coming chapters, and especially towards the end of this arc like you wouldn't believe. I've actually started writing some of those parts already (even though they're several chapters off) just so I put a lot of time into getting them right. The events surrounding Branka and Flemeth are going to be great.


	42. Monsters

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 42: Monsters_

"I awoke to this horrid thing upon me."

Morrigan held up Aedan's ragged blanket and raised her eyebrow, glaring at him. Aedan shrugged as he roasted a deep roads' stalker he had caught. "You looked cold," he said, not taking his eyes off the skewered meat.

She shook it again in front of him."You do realize that this filthy thing has all your sweat and grime from walking in the Deep Roads all day?"

Aedan shrugged again wordlessly. Morrigan scowled at his reaction, and then was struck by a thought. She inquired, "What did you use for a blanket if not for this?", narrowing her eyes at Aedan.

"Oh.. you know. Just slept by the fire," lied Aedan, "Told Shale to roll me over if I got too near to it." Shale looked at the warden, who had been up all night. It looked away and chose to ignore the lie, instead opting to stare at a rather interesting piece of rock.

Morrigan crossed her arms and stared at Shale's reaction. "I see," said the witch, looking back at the tired Aedan, who rubbed his eyes and yawned. The golem, not wanting to deal with the witch, proceeded to depart and wander the surrounding tunnels. After a few moments of silence, Morrigan folded up the blanket and turned around to walk back to her area.

"You're not going to give it back to me?" asked Aedan, pointing his skewered and slightly burnt meat at Morrigan. The witch stopped in her tracks and replied rather haughtily, "Oh. You were expecting it back?"

"I believe your words were 'horrid' and 'filthy'," reiterated Aedan. He held his hand out, waiting for Morrigan to return the blanket. The witch did not budge.

"Hygiene doesn't seem to be an option when you're literally wading through rock and dirt. I'd rather be dirty than cold." Morrigan held the blanket tighter to her chest, then turned around to leave. Morrigan's back turned, Aedan hooked his fingers onto her belt. With a small tug, the rather light witch stumbled backwards and plopped onto his lap.

Aedan winced in anticipation of an incoming blow. He held his palm in front of his face to shield himself. After a few moments of no pain, Aedan opened his eyes to see Morrigan remaining on his lap, still holding onto his blanket. When their gazes met, Morrigan instinctively glanced away. Aedan watched her fidget and glance from her own bedroll and glance to him. Her eyes then scanned over the entirety of the still sleeping camp. Aedan sighed and wrapped his arms around her. Morrigan went tense like a board and her heart lept out her chest.

"Nobody's watching," he whispered into her ear.

"That's not the point," muttered Morrigan, who leaned slightly more into him. "Tis unnecessary, tis-"

"I'm just replacing the blanket, that's all." Aedan pulled her in closer and buried his face in the top of her hair. A few strands of them accidentally got into his mouth, and Aedan brushed her hair down to keep it from doing so again.

Morrigan wrapped her arm onto his to pull it away, but she paused, and then tugged his arm closer around.

"Just...for a bit then."

The two sat there in silence, whilst Morrigan's heartbeat thumped against Aedan's arm. Slowly, it calmed into a peaceful lull. Aedan wasn't quite sure why he was doing this, yet he enjoyed the peaceful silence as he held Morrigan and the calm he felt wash over his mind.

* * *

><p>The first grave they had encountered had been hand chiseled stone, dedicated to a warrior named Thulan, from House Branka. Oghren had briefly reminisced drinking with the fellow bearded dwarf, before he examined the handwriting.<p>

Branka's.

The writing on the grave was longwinded and sentimental, as Oghren put it when he wiped away a single tear and smiled. "Just like her," he had chuckled.

Three weeks in, and the trail of graves had led them to an old dwarven fortress, deep in the old thaigs of the dwarfs. One by one Branka's house had thinned.

The most recent one had simply been a wooden stake, a far cry from the elaborate and heartfelt eulogy inscribed on the first one. Aedan didn't even know how many bodies lay underneath the mound. Perhaps the constant death of her comrades had worn Branka down. Aedan grimaced as he made his way into the old dwarven mausoleum. He was thankful at least that none of his comrades had died.

As the group entered the webbed crypt doors, Aedan noticed that many of the coffins lids had been broken into and overturned. Out of the corner of his eye Aedan saw a figure dart through the shadows. He whipped out his sword and announced, "Whoever you are, show yourself."

Oghren spotted the dwarven woman first as she limped out of the shadows,"Hespith," he murmered, "By the Ancestors, what the hell happened to you?" Aedan spun around in Oghren's directions and lay his eyes upon the dwarven intruder. Something dark and grimy trickled from Hespith's body. Her cuts and gashes oozed some sort of fatty pus. The deep sword lacerations seemed to have come from the darkspawn, but as Aedan looked closer, he could see Hespith's own self-inflicted wounds lining her entire body. She had clawed at her own flesh, peeling at her own skin.

Was that blood on her mouth?

Her splotched face turned to him. Her infected yellow eyes, like a rabid beasts, bored into him with a blank expression. Aedan shivered- he had seen some of the tainted before, but never this far gone. In some of the villages they had passed by, tainted refugees never lived long, and either died from their infection before they became a ghoul, or killed themselves before it was too late.

The woman tilted her head and continued to stare in his direction.

"Ah...I sense the taint in you. A Grey Warden."

Her hands fumbled in front of her as she attempted to feel her way towards Aedan. She pushed aside Leliana and Wynne and made her way towards Aedan.

"But it is not yet your time...not yet your Calling. Why are you here?"

She swallowed and whispered hoarsely, "Have you come for her?"

Oghren snapped his fingers and stopped his squinting. "Hespith, oi! It's me, Oghren!" he shouted, rushing over to the woman. Oghren tried his best his smile, but his smile slowly faded the more he looked at what Hespith had become. He cringed as a thick, yellow, mucous-like liquid dripped down from her eyes.

"Where's Branka? Did she become...like you? Is she alright?" he pestered, shaking her by the shoulders. Hespith trembled in place. More of the yellow mucous like liquid dripped from her eyes as her expression twisted into agony. Her fingernails dug into her flesh as she hugged herself and shook. Aedan finally recognized that the woman was in fact crying the strange substance. Oghren tugged nervously on his bright red beard. "Warden, I'm not liking this one bit," he said, slowly backing away from Hespith.

"Branka,' she hissed as he chest heaved up and down, "Why?" A strange, throaty whimpering sound arose from her mouth.

"You gonna be okay there," asked Alistair, whose hand hovered in front of the dwarven woman, unsure of what to do.

"I am dying of something worse than death...betrayal," seethed Hepsith,"She believes she is protecting the people of Orzammar. That she is fighting for what is right...so it has left nothing in her mind but the Anvil. She did not even blink as she herded us in here, then sealed the door shut."

Hespith clawed at her face and wept. More infected skin peeled away by the scratching of her jagged splotched fingernails. Her wails rang within the stony walls and pierced the ears of Aedan's group.

"I had to watch...watch as they violated Laryn with the darkness and filled her with it...then have them do the same to me," she whimpered, "They cut her...bled her...until all she and I knew were the smell and taste of blood."

"Just calm down, Hespith-" Oghren tried to grab her hands, but the woman hissed and slapped it away. She lumbered away on all fours out into the open graveyards.

"Find her!" barked Aedan as he ran after the woman. As he entered the main courtyard, filled to the brim with coffins and urns, Aedan felt the presence of darkspawn all around him, on the outer edges of the fortress. They had to be watching this, but why weren't they approaching?

His feet stamped against the ancient stone as he desperately searched for her. This was the first living member of Branka's expedition they had encountered. They needed her.

"I watched as she ate the face off of her own husband while he still lived," sobbed Hespith from the darkness. "Watched as she tore him limb from limb, growing plump on the flesh of our comrades." Her cries echoed through rocky caverns that held the former dwarven fortress. Aedan panted as he rested upon the railing of the bridge. A foreboding door lay ahead of him at the other side. Unlike the rest of the fortress, carved out of ancient steel, the door had been forged from steel and towered above the rest of the chamber.

"I watched as her skin turned inside out, as her blood ran black, until she smelt like them. Shrieked like them. Looked like them."

Hespith emerged from the shadows besides the door, but did not linger in the light of the torches. She hunched over in the darkness and stood still, looking straight at Aedan, then at Alistair, then back at Aedan. Her eyes teared up and a pained expression came across her face.

"But it didn't stop there. She swelled with the darkness, until she could hold it no longer. Then she birthed the darkness."

Aedan cautiously approached Hespith like he would a wild animal. He couldn't have her running off again. He raised both his hands in the air in an offering of peace. The woman didn't react at all, with her glazed eyes still squarely staring into Aedan's. He suspected that she couldn't actually see, and that she could only sense the taint. Sighing, he put his hands down and continued his approach. Once he stood in front of her and the door, he moved his hand across the gigantic door in front of them.

"Is the way to Branka behind this door?"

Hespith rummaged around in her ragged clothing, then held out a rusted steel key covered in blood stains. Aedan hesitated before grabbing the key from her hands.

"Is this why you waited...why you haven't killed yourself yet?" asked Aedan.

"It took me months to find this key," croaked Hespith, "Months digging through the graves of my ancestors. Months hiding from the darkspawn. Months eating nothing but-" Hespith cut herself off and fell silent, her eyes falling to the ground."I suggest you move quickly."

Aedan slid the key into the lock. Along the entire length of the steel device, locks and gears went off, clicking out of place. Such an ancient design, noted Aedan, would have been most likely to keep out the intruders of this dwarven fortress, back when the dwarves only worst enemy was themselves.

The darkness enveloped the group as they moved into the tunnel. Something dripped from the soft, fleshy pustules on the wall and echoed through the chambers. Aedan hoped that it was water and not something else, although the smell confirmed his worst suspicions. Despite the many forks and turns in the tunnel system, Aedan coudl guess which way they needed to head: half-eaten skeletons lined the way path while severed limbs pointed towards their destination.

The darkspawn were bringing bodies into here for something. Did they have some sort of communal feeding ground?

_Some sort of family dinner?_ grimaced Aedan internally. He highly doubted that darkspawn understood the concept of family.

A grotesque hulking pile of flesh roared at the group. Her tentacles seeped into the walls, winding all around them. Her boils pulsated with unholy fervor, some of them popping and spilling out a thick, grey, slime. From beneath the other boils, Aedan could see the outlines of face, of darkspawn, clawing at her skin. The broodmother screamed in agony as the darkspawn clawed their way through her flesh. They tumbled to the floor, roaring like a newborn beast. Their muscled physiques contrasted with their newborn status and the thick layer of liquid that dripped from their new bodies. They bared sharp, rotting teeth at Aedan's group and beat their chests.

The broodmother pointed at Aedan and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Aedan clutched his forehead in agony as pained whispers shot through his skull. Alistair too leaned against the steel frame of the door as he clenched his teeth. Neither were used to such strong presence from a darkspawn.

"Aedan, get up!" snapped Morrigan, who shook Aedan's shoulder as the man struggled on all fours.

"Brood...mother," he croaked, despite never having heard the name before. This is where they came from, where the darkness stewed and festered. This was the legacy that flowed through his blood.

The brood mother shrieked again, spewing a ghastly flood of bile from her mouth. The newborns scuttled to the silly green mess and lapped it up.

Aedan struggled to stand on his feet, wobbling back and forth as his still blurred world tumbled around him. Morrigan stood in front of him as he cradled his head, blasting away the darkspawn that swarmed about them. As their charred bodies slumped to the ground, Morrigan spun around and looked worriedly at the stumbling Aedan.

"I'm alright...I'm alright..."he mumbled, finally getting his footing. Even though he clutched head with his left hand, he felt a more immediate, albeit dulled, darkspawn presence than tr brood other. He arced his sword out to the right without looking, and he heard the creature's head roll to the ground.

"Alistair...you...you okay buddy?"

"I'm ok-k-kay,"stuttered Alistair, leaning both hands on Shale. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he panted and tried to grip his weapons. Aedan cringed as the broodmother shrieked again. The newborns beat their chest and roared, spraying their horrid yellow saliva everywhere.

_Focus. Focus._

The others were being overwhelmed- he could out the corner of his eyes the darkspawn rushing about them like a swarm of flies. He needed to take care of the broodmother fast, lest she spawn more.

He clenched his sword hilt as tight as he could, till his knuckles went white and the metal of his gauntlet dug into his skin. He focused on that familiar feeling of sword in hand, how it squished painfully against his raw callouses, and ignored the throbbing feeling in his head.

"Shale, boost!" he roared. The golem slapped aside several darkspawn and rammed itself toward Aedan through the crowd.

Aedan lept onto the golems shoulders and onto it's hands. With a thrust the golem hurled Aedan at the broodmother upon the wall. Aedah throttled through the air and slammed his sword directly into the creature's chest. The creature roared in fury, swinging it's grotesque body back and forth to shake him off. Aedan dropped his shield to the ground and pulled out's Nan's knife.

With his sword and knife Aedan began to scale the behemoth, driving his blades deeper and deeper. No matter how much he stabbed, the creature still seemed to hold onto her life.

Only one option.

Aedan grabbed onto her neck with his arms and legs. He could feel the oily substance that lined her body seep into the cracks of his armor.

He came straight face to face with the broodmother. Her eyes couldn't be called eyes anymore. Darkness swirled beneath her beady eyeballs, barely revealed by her drooping rotted eyelids. He could smell her vile breath as her bile dripped from her lips, little chunks of flesh from her victims splashing against his helm.

Aedan drove his knife straight into her forehead, again and again, holding his breath to keep himself from vomiting. His forehead throbbed in agony as she screamed and howled, flailing her fat tiny arms about. The rank stench filled his helmet and aedan's stomach lurched as the fresh blood

"Just die already, would you?" he grunted. He swung around onto her back and drives his sword into her spine. He could feel his sword break through her bones as he slide the blade down towards her head.

The boils that lined the walls began to deflate, and the figures inside had stopped writhing about. Aedan felt the broodmother's body lurch forward, and he suddenly he found himself falling through the air along with the severed half of the broodmother. He crashed to the ground on all fours, wincing as he felt his ankle twist in a bad direction. Flesh and blood spilled down upon him as the broodmother's severed bottom half hung from the walls.

The last of the darkspawn were being felled by Sten and Oghren, while the others caught their breath. Morrigan kneeled over his ankle and held her hands over his injured ankle. Aedan felt the familiar feeling of his flesh mending. The others wordlessly looked around in horror at the carnage.

"That...is what I will become," came a tortured whisper, breaking the silence.

Aedan turned to see that Hespith had come out of hiding. She kneeled by the broodmother and stroked the fallen figure of the brood mother, cooing as she closed the eyes of her former comrade. The shrieking of the beast fell down as her flailing tentacles ceased their movement. Aedan watched, unsure what to think as Hespith planted a single kiss on the creature's forehead. Her corrupted lips left a mark of blood and rotted flesh upon the broodmother's skin.

"No...rather...this is what she made us become," muttered Hespith, still brooding over her fallen friend. "The only thing that has stayed my blade...kept me from jumping into the abyss and letting the stone take me...is the thought that one day someone would come and make her pay.'

Hespith stared into the abyss in silence. Unsure what to do, Aedan too simply stared into the darkness instead of the flickering light of Morrigan's lit hand. After what seemed like forever staring into the dark, Aedan stayed Morrigan's hand away from his ankle, and pushed himself up. He looked at Hespith and asked quietly,"Would you like me to kill you?"

For the first time since he had met her, Hespith turned to him and smiled."That would be rather kind of you." She wiped away her yellowish tears and stood back up.

Pulling out his whetstone, Aedan sharpened the edge of his sword. If it was dull, it would be painful for Hespith. As he wrapped his fingers around the bloodied hilt of his sword, they did not tremble. His heart did not beat wildly. His mind did not race.

He looked into her tainted eyes as only a Grey Warden could. He could sense it's presence in her, the pulsating darkness that ate away at her insides, now more than ever.

As he took his steps towards her, he did not feel surprised at how calm he was. He did not feel joy in being able to relieve a woman of her pain. As he drew his sword and pointed it outwards at her throat, he simply felt nothing.

"Warden, you kill monsters, don't you?" asked Hespith, the tears now streaming down her face and clinging to her ragged clothing.

Aedan paused before answering. "Yes."

Hespith clenched her teeth together and sobbed one final time. Her entire body shook as she tried her best to keep herself in place. "Then kill her," she whispered.

The dwarven woman trembled in fear, in anger, in sorrow, as her emotions flooded over her. Finally, at the peak of her tears and with clenched fists, Hespith shut her eyes and nodded once tearfully.

Aedan did not pause before he swung his sword.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Ahhh it's been awhile. Sorry about the long wait- it's been such a busy mess as of late. No flashback sequence this week, I just wanted to get this chapter out there, and what I had didn't really fit in with the whole horror tone going on this chapter.

Expect the next one in about 2 weeks. As always, feel free to review, ask questions, or leave constructive criticism. Hope you enjoyed!


	43. Sins

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 43: Sins_

_Adair had told him to meet by the translator's house at midnight. It had been a week since his father had given him the translator's contact info. To keep his father off his trail, Aedan had brought in a fake code with himself during the daytime, to make sure that he followed up. The translator, Frederic, had been a nice enough man. He guided Aedan through the steps needed for basic code breaking on the fake text that Aedan had brought. _

_Aedan tightened the cloak about his face to hide it more. He didn't want anyone knowing that he had been out, lest they place him at Frederic's house. The downpour of rain seemed to help conceal his identity. _

_Once Aedan stepped in front of the entrance, Adair opened up the door and and beckoned him inside quickly. "I've got the guy tied up and everything in the back, I think he's about to piss himself," Adair said as Aedan dried himself off._

_Aedan blinked, registering what Adair had just said."I'm sorry, what?" he said, cocking his head to the side. He peeked down the hallway into an open door, and saw a glimpse of Frederic's struggling figure strapped into a chair. "Speaking of which,' groaned Adair, stretching his arms, "I have to take a piss; you mind starting without me while I do my business?"_

"_Why would you tie him up?" seethed Aedan, grabbing Adair by the arm, "This isn't some sort of torture or extortion racket! We said we were just going to scare him a bit." Adair glared at Aedan to remove his grip, his eyes going steely cold. Aedan's hand darted backwards; part of him had forgotten how dangerous this man truly was."You've never really done this sort of thing before, have you?" asked Adair._

"_I'm sorry, I don't torture people in my spare time."_

"_You'd be surprised how many nobles have such deviant interests actually. Some of them even prefer to be on the rack, if you know what I'm saying."_

"_This isn't funny! My father's friend is bound, gagged, and blindfolded in the next room. I didn't want-"_

"_Listen here. I have very specific skill set, and keen sense of when to use it. We don't want this guy talking about whatever we're going to have him translate, for both his and our sakes. He mentions one word of this to the authorities, then others are going to do far worse to him. Ever been waterboarded? It's not fun."_

_Aedan gulped. He knew Adair was right, but the idea of hurting his father's friend, innocent in all this, seemed..unsavoury._

"_I understand that you don't want to hurt this man, but in order to get what we want, we need to bat him around for a bit."_

"_Right," muttered Aedan, covering his head with a metal helm Adair had procured, then draped the hood of his cloak over himself. "Just...promise you'll control yourself."_

"_That's what you're there for. You gotta be useful somehow," chuckled Adair, who neglected to cover his face. His image was already on all the wanted posters all over the city, so it wasn't any use to hide who he was. _

_Aedan and Adair entered the stone-walled room and slammed the door shut. The room was filled with wines and smelt of aged grapes and strong alcohol; no doubt his wine cellar. As such, there were no windows in order to keep the wine's free of any fluctuations in temperature or light. Adair struck up a match and lit a single candle._

_In the middle sat the struggling form of Frederic the translator with a sack over his head, bound to the chair and struggling to free himself. Muffled noises escaped from beneath the moldy sack. "Sorry," whispered Aedan under his breath, "I'll make this up to you somehow." He approached Frederic, his hands shaking. No matter what he was doing this for, even if they weren't going to hurt him, this didn't feel right. Aedan gulped and pulled the bag off of Frederic's head. _

_Surprisingly, the man's face was unharmed. Aedan sighed in relief: at least Adair hadn't done any pre-torture. _

"_I want you to translate this," said Aedan in as deep a voice as possible. He pulled out the stack of documents and lay them before the man. He placed his finger one the first line, and grunted in as menacing a tone as possible: "Start reading." He cut the rag out Frederic's mouth and took several steps backwards. Frederic looked up and down back at the documents and to Adair and Aedan._

"_Why?" stuttered the man._

"_Wrong answer," said Adair, who glided behind the man. Adair traced his knife along the back of the man's neck. The cold steel tip gently sliced into his skin, and the faintest dribble of blood ran down his skin. Frederic whimpered and his body's shaking rattled the chair against the ground._

_Out of nowhere, Adair punched the man straight in the stomach. The man cried out silently in pain, for the punch had knocked the wind out of him. Aedan whipped his angry gaze at Adair, who gave him a stern look back. _

"_Now read," growled Adair. Frederic took a few moments to collect himself, then began to mouth the words he translated under his breath. However, in the middle of his mental translation, his eyes grew determined and he looked back up at the two._

"_I- I won't tell you."_

"_What?"_

"_This...this is the king's cipher. The first sentence is, "To those loyal to the crown, protect this information from those who would threaten our country""_

"_I know you...from the posters. You conspired with the king's attempted assassin...you almost killed my friend Bryce's son! I'm not telling you a damn thing," shouted the man in defiance. He shook his chair and struggled once again to get free. Adair groaned and beckoned Aedan outside._

_Once they were out of earshot, Adair asked, "This guy, who exactly is he?"_

"_Frederic...back in during the war against Orlais, this was the man in my father's camp who deciphered the coded orders sent from the king to his army. It makes perfect sense that he'd be able to decode this messages if your squad was sanctioned by the crown," said Aedan. A foreboding look came over Adair's face that Aedan didn't like. He stomach lurched, and Aedan tasted a distinct acidic flavor in his own mouth._

"_It also means he's loyal like a dog, and that isn't going to help us here," mused Aedair darkly._

"_What are you suggesting?"_

"_The moment he figured out it's the king's cipher the guy clamped it. He's not some prissy noble who I can threaten with a few punches." Adair grimaced and said, "You know what we have to do."_

"_We are not torturing him!" seethed Aedan, "Understand?"_

"_I don't see any other choice. This guy is clearly knows how to translate the rest of this, and I don't think I'm going to find anyone else who can figure the king's cipher."_

"_And what if it's a dead end, and he won't give up the information even until death?"_

_Adair scoffed at Aedan."Everyone talks, kid."_

_Aedan looked back and forth between Adair and Frederic in the other room in desperation. Adair was right; they had to escalate to get the information out of Frederic, but none of this was Frederic's fault. He didn't deserve to be in that chair._

"_He's innocent, Adair," said Aedan, "but I'm not."_

* * *

><p>When he closed his eyes, he could still see the black beady eyes of the broodmother as she shrieked right in his face. He could still smell her sickening bile and feel the little bits of flesh splash against his face.<p>

Aedan shuddered awake, sweat dripping down his pale forehead. He let out a weak sigh and rubbed his face. So much time away from the sunlight had left him feeling sick. His clammy, cold skin reminded himself of a corpse. Aedan took a moment to smell under his armpits and gagged. Apparently it had left him smelling like one too.

Walking over to the camp, Aedan was surprised to someone else there as well, "Still have that headache?" asked Alistair. He too looked intensely fatigued; no doubt the broodmother had stuck with him too.

Aedan grimaced and uncorked his flask. Of the "essentials" that Oghren had packed, one knapsack had been filled with alcohol, much to the displeasure of some others. Aedan however did not mind, as long as the dwarf shared with him. He took a couple of swigs and let the familiar burning feeling fill his mouth. Dwarven hard liquors always had a kick to them. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and threw the flask to Alistair. "This'll help."

Alistair gingerly peered inside of the flask. "What is inside this? I'm not really a fan of the stronger stuff; more a fan of ale and such."

"Alistair, I'm fairly certain you've been stabbed in the foot before and managed to shake that off for a good hour. A little bit of strong alcohol will be nothing for you."

Alistair sighed and took a swig of the burning liquid, coughing as it fell down his throat. "That is...quite strong."

Silence passed as Alistair threw the bottle back to Aedan. "Did you know?" asked Aedan quietly, "About the broodmothers?"

"I didn't. They never told me," answered Alistair with a depressed tone.

"What else did the Grey Wardens not tell us, I wonder?" mused Aedan, taking another sip from his flask. He had always looked up to the Grey Wardens as a child, thinking them of incorruptible defenders of the innocent. And yet now being one, it was the exact opposite. They were born from the death of others, and would die in the darkest god-forsaken trenches of the Deep Roads, most likely to become food for darkspawn. Men like Avernus, and even Duncan, had killed good men to secure the Grey Warden's future.

That was their job. To stop the Blight by any means necessary.

His job now.

* * *

><p>They were near to where the rest of Branka's expedition notes had placed the Anvil at. After killing the broodmother, they had gathered the remains of Hespith's belonging and discovered several marked maps with here, detailing all the dangerous passages and blocked exits. Hespith had made sure that long after her death, Branka would feel her vengeance.<p>

Aedan looked over the map to make sure he was getting this right: only a few feet away was where the main camp had set up, right outside where the Anvil of the Void was supposed to be located. The outside light shone into the tunnel, and it was beginning to smell less and less like mold as they moved forward.

A barely audible rumble echoed in his ears. Aedan looked around for the source of the noise. "You hear that?" he inquired aloud.

"Sure it's not just your stomach again, Warden?" joked Leliana, poking him in the stomach. Aedan scowled and said,"I'm serious, it's like some sort of rumbl-"

The noise intensified and Aedan instinctively shot his gaze upwards, only to see a steel slab slamming downwards. In a split second Aedan threw Alistair backwards into the rest of the group behind him, and kicked himself forwards. The edge of the steel wall crashed a mere hair's width away from Aedan's foot.

"Shit!" muttered Aedan, who looked behind him to see who else was with him: Only Shale, Oghren, and Zevran had made it with him. All the others now lay beyond the wall. While dusting himself off, Aedan asked ,"Shale, can you try knocking this-"

Shale slammed a craggy fist into the steel door. A girlish shriek from behind the steel wall and the sound of tumbling rocks seemed to indicate that Leliana was in trouble.

"I'm alright, the rocks nearly fell on me," came Alistair's reply, along with giggle from Leliana and Wynne. "Stop laughing!" cried the templar.

"Ah, of course, that was Alistair,' said Zevran attempting to cover his laughter.

"Yes, I'll admit, it was a less than masculine yelp- I can see you smiling Sten, stop that!" screamed Alistair from behind the wall, "A whole bunch of rocks came down. Whatever you do, don't shake the damn thing again."

"Can you you loop back and find another way around?" asked Zevran, who had begun tracing his fingers against the bottom of the door, looking for any sort of structural weakness.

"Another door slammed down behind us at the same time,"replied Alistair, "so we can't come back the way we came."

"Give me a second, I'll blast through this," stated Morrigan matter of factly.

"No!" said Alistair, right before the ceiling above the two groups suddenly shook from Morrigan's spell. Aedan could hear the the faint sizzle of Morrigan's blast as it's energy died down. He heard scuffling beyond the wall, and Morrigan yelped. Apparently the others were holding her down.

Oghren brushed his fingers against the cold steel wall. "It's metal...this is dwarven made. Enchanted with lyrium. Give the same rotten tingly feeling whenever I touch one of your mage's crafts. It'll take a lot more than mages to blast through this thing."

"Well well," echoed an eerie voice. Aedan whipped around to face the intruder. An armor clad female dwarf, dripping of darkspawn blood, stood atop the nearby ledge, coldly staring down upon Aedan and what remained of his group. Her eyes darted from person to person, analyzing and calculating in silence.

"Four should be a good test run," came her verdict,"If you fail, the other five and the dog should be able to get through. If you succeed...then the wall opens up. Either way, you'll need to move forward so you can come back to them."

Oghren gaped at the dwarven woman in shocked silence. After a few moments, he jumped up in joy and shouted, "Branka! It's me! Oghren!". Branka narrowed her eyes as she watched her filthy husband wave his hands about, trying to get a response from her."Quiet fool," she snapped, "I could smell your unshowered, booze-ridden beard from leagues away."

"Ah that piercing tongue that I just loved so much," Oghren muttered, the smile dropping from his face.

"As much of a blithering idiot you were and are Oghren, you did have a knack for destroying things. You ought to do a good job," said Branka in a tired, monotone voice. Turning her attention to the others, Branka mused, "Let's see what we have here."

A small twinkle returned to her eyes when she saw Shale. "A working golem. My my. Perhaps you do stand some chance after all. The best way to break Caridin's god forsaken traps is with his own creations, so far as I've tested."

Her gaze fell on Zevran, and the twinkle died in her eyes."The elf is scrawny. He will do you no good." Zevran scowled in offense. "I can see why you married her Oghren. Such a loving aura."

Finally she looked upon Aedan and said, "Ah. A Grey Warden. Good. I need someone to clean out the remaining darkspawn I let loose."

"What makes you think we're going to do anything you ask, after what you did to your team." Aedan narrowed his eyes and stared squarely at Branka. "I saw what you did to Hespith."

Branka raised her eyebrow at Aedan's skepticism. "I did what was necessary. I consider myself quite the mechanical genius, yet even Caridn's designs elude my understanding. The only way to the Anvil of the Void is through trial and error." Branka sighed casually. "And you need fodder to make errors."

She was too calm. Too composed. How could she just stand there like that? Aedan's fist clenched and trembled at his side as he looked at the half-eaten skeletons that lined the cavern. No doubt the darkspawn had feasting upon them.

"Is that what you call it? 'Error'? Is it error to herd and sacrifice your house against their will like cattle? To feed them to these creatures? Let them become darkspawn?"

"They fully understood the risks when they joined my expedition, just as your team does as well. It is the burden of the leader to make the tough decisions. The good ones will trudge towards their objective, no matter the cost." Her voice rumbled and filled with her passion as she resolutely said, "Make no mistake, Warden. I will save my people."

Aedan's eyes met Branka's. He could see the bags beneath her eyes and the joyless expression that she wore. Her eyes reminded him of Adair and Teharel; tired from their burdens and sins, yet still filled with a fire. Aedan grimaced. He wondered if he looked the same now too. Branka silently acknowledged Aedan with a nod, then vanished behind the cliff face.

"Alright, so now that the crazy lady has left," piped Alistair from behind the steel wall, "how about we figure out a way to get rid of this wall?"

"You heard Branka, that wall ain't coming up till we get to the Anvil." Oghren took out his axe and began sharpening it against a nearby rock. "Damn woman never made anything easy for me."

"You can't be serious," said Alistair, "There's only four of you, and we have no idea what's over there...scratch that, you know partly what's over there Aedan. You can sense it too, right?"

Aedan closed his eyes and concentrated on any nearby darkspawn. He could feel their darkness nearby, throbbing and raring for bloodshed. He opened them and said, "There's a large horde of Darkspawn in the direction Branka headed towards. They're not moving towards us though, so it may be Branka had them trapped. We've got Shale; that should help get us past the traps."

"Fool, just give us some time," shouted Morrigan.

"You don't have time, that cavern could collapse at any moment."

"We will be out shortly- I just need to-" Aedan could hear Morrigan attempt to struggle from behind the wall, but he heard Alistair chant quite loudly, a burst of blue energy shone through the cracks beneath the steel door.

"Are you joking?" said Morrigan, louder than her usual calm and composed voice, "He's going to get himself killed, we need to get out of her!."

"We can handle ourselves, Morrigan. I'll see you in a bit," said Aedan, turning his back on the steel door. "Come on guys, we need to hurry-"

Behind the steel door, Morrigan listened to the loud footsteps of Shale grow fainter as Aedan and his group left. Morrigan looked amongst the faces surrounding her and realized that for the first time in a long while, Aedan was not there. She could not see what was happening to him or what danger he could be in. Of course, he would shrug off his injuries and problems as though they weren't there, but Morrigan always knew after each battle the scars Aedan brought back with him.

"Of course you can handle yourself," muttered Morrigan under her breath, a tremble in her voice as she held hands over her chest. She felt an anxious feeling swirling in her heart, sickening and dizzying, like a disease.

* * *

><p><em>Frederic shivered and pulled his arm against the ropes, trying his best to break free. His captors had been gone for several minutes now; if there was ever a time to escape, now was it.<em>

"_Alright Frederic, I'm going to make this a little more interesting," slithered Adair as he reentered. Frederic couldn't see anything beyond his blindfold, but he could hear Adair dragging something heavy into the room; the irritating sound of wood scraping against stone grated against Frederic's ears._

_Adair sneered maliciously, undid Frederic's blindfold, and lit a candle. Frederic's eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, but he saw before him the bruised and bloodied figure of his friend's son._

"_Aedan?" whispered Frederic, "No, this can't be happening-"_

_Aedan pretended to futilely struggle against his bonds. Adair had roughed him up as Aedan had suggested and strapped him in the chair, but it was up to Aedan to sell the initial act that he had been gravely wounded._

"_You know, as I was passing by, scouting you out, I happened to see a familiar young man happen into your shop," said Adair, pacing about the room. He scraped his knife against the stone walls as he circled the two men. "The same young man responsible for my imprisonment- and the same one who led my apprentice to being executed._

"_I think the implications are clear," whispered Adair into Frederic's ear, smiling as he did so. Adair lunged at Aedan and swung with everything he had into Aedan's face. Aedan, still bound to the chair, fell to the ground, where a trail of blood trickled from Aedan's mouth._

"_Hey Frederic," coughed Aedan through the blood in his mouth, "Fancy seeing you here."_

"_Shut the hell up kid," sneered Adair. A familiar chill ran down Aedan's spine as he watched Adair's darkened expression. The heel of Adair's boot smashed into his stomach. Aedan's entire world spun as Adair kicked him over and over again. Aedan gritted his teeth and struggled to stay consious through the sea of pain. He sputtered out droplets of blood and saliva with each blow._

"_Maker, stop it! He's just a kid!" screamed Frederic, who struggled against his bonds._

_Aedan's vision blacked out for a second from the pain. The next he knew he was being pulled up by his hair. Adair drew his knife and held it against Aedan's throat._

"_The Maker can't help him. Only you can."_

_Frederic clamped up yet again, but Aedan saw his will breaking; sweat dribbled down his forehead as the man bit his lip. He no longer had the stoic expression of a soldier. Adair placed the stack of papers on Frederic's lap, and pointed once again to the first sentence."Translate it."_

_Frederic hesitated for several moments, still shaking in his chair. Adair sighed and brought his knife upwards above Aedan's leg. _

_Isn't this a little bit too convincing? thought Aedan desperately, his heart beating wildly against his chest in fear._

"_I'll do it! Stop!" screamed Frederic as he rattled against his bonds, "Just...give me a few moments to translate all of it."_

_Adair smiled and dropped his knife to the ground. Aedan sighed in relief and leaned his head backwards as the adrenaline subsided from his system. For a moment there, he thought Adair might have actually stabbed him._

_Frederic began his translation: "This one...is about the ordered burning of the village called Stonewell." Frederic's mouth twisted in horror as he read the details whilst his voice trembled, "On the third year of Maric's-"_

"_Next."_

"_Execution of Orlesian apologists, later discovered to be innoc-"_

"_Next."_

"_Torture and imprisonment of those threatening to expose the Whittlebern incide-"_

"_Next."_

"_Burning of the plague ridden members of the Chantr-"_

"_Next."_

"_Kidnapping the daughter of one Bann-"_

"_Next."_

"_Assassination of the owner of the Portsward Shipping Company and his successors-"_

"_Next," said Adair, an unease in his voice Aedan had not heard before. The man's shoulders slumped and he looked down at the stone beneath his feet. One by one Frederic listed off the sins of a time long ago. Aedan watched as a sad look overcame Adair's eyes. Frederic too noticed Adair's saddened gaze and paused before continuing._

"_Do you want me to conti-"_

"_Keep going," growled Adair viciously, holding the knife once again to Aedan's neck. The edge broke his skin and blood dribbled down Aedan's bruised and bloodied chest._

_Frederic turned over to the next page in the document. "There's a Chantry...in a small village called Westholme. There you'll find the bastard...and the lamb skin package."_

_Both Adair and Aedan widened their eyes at the mention of the word 'bastard'._

"_The package?" asked Adair desperately, holding the knife to Frederic's throat._

"_I don't know what they're talking about, I swear!" sputtered Frederic, "Please, just let us go!"_

_Adair snarled and cut loose Frederic from his bonds. The translator rushed over to Aedan and began checking his wounds. Adair's knife clattered to the ground next to Frederic, who then cut Aedan loose. Aedan collapsed to the ground, clutching his stomach._

"_Don't worry. Just keep your mouth shut and don't tell a soul I came by here. I see any authorities on my trail, and I'll be visiting you and the kid," threatened Adair. He gazed once at the heaving and bloodied Aedan, before turning his back to the two and unlocking the door._

"_Was this...these things in the documents...you?" asked Frederic quietly to Adair's turned back. He shivered in fear as he attempted to cut loose Aedan's bounds. His hands shivered so much that the knife dropped to the floor once again. "Who...what...are you?"_

_Adair's reply was barely more a whisper. Aedan watched the pained, sad expression on the older man's face twist as the words escaped his mouth and Aedan's blood ran down his knuckles._

"_Just a monster."_

_The door slammed shut._

* * *

><p>Aedan pushed back the final doors, groaning as he exerted himself. He had taken some blunt blows from golems in the traps. Dealing with the golems, ghosts, and darkspawn had been problematic to say the least. They were almost out of bandages.<p>

The rush of heat blasted against Aedan's face. Beyond the door lay a sizzling landscape of molten orange lava that cascaded over what seemed to be mountains. All of a sudden, the light in front of him turned to darkness as a massive shadow fell over him. Aedan looked up to see a titan towering over him. Reacting instinctively, Aedan drew his sword and scrambled backwards. The golem in front of him towered above even Shale; it's metal was old and rusted, but still looked well put together.

"Stranger. I see that accursed woman has finally found her way past my traps," came an old, metallic sounding voice, like that of a man in a suit of armor.

"You can talk," said Aedan, lowering his sword. Perhaps it could be reasoned with.

"Indeed," stated the massive golem, "I am Caridin...the creator the Anvil of the Void, the fool who thought to harness golem craft."

"Caridin lived hundreds of years ago," said Oghren, "Don't be ridiculous."

"Indeed I did. Long ago, I used magic and steel to forge golems of immeasurable strength. However, the one thing I could not forge...was the soul. We crafted enchanted golem shells using my Anvil of the Void. Then, we would lower in the dwarves...and pour the molten lyrium and metal upon them."

"The golems...were dwarves?" stated Shale in disbelief. It's craggy hands shook with nervousness and anviety for the first time.

"Yes, you among them Shale," said Caridin, turning to the smaller golem, "You were one of the most loyal, and stayed with me till the very end, until I sent you away. One of the most loyal woman I've ever met."

"I was a dwarf?" uttered Shale in disbelief, "A dwarf women?" The golem stepped backwards from Caridin in shock.

"At first it was only volunteers, like Shale, but then...then the King of Orzammar began to force others to undertake the painful ritual. Scores of unwilling dwarves were forced to have their bodies seared by molten metal and forced into becoming...what I am now. I tried to stop them, but for my impudence, I too was forced to become one of my own creations, enchanted so that neither me nor my golems could destroy the very creator of our existence: the Anvil."

Caridin faced Aedan once again. "You cannot fathom our pain. Do you understand what it is like to no longer be able to feel the wind upon your face? To feel the relief of sleep? The taste of food?" Caridin's voice, tinged with pain and regret, carried throughout the chamber and echoed in Aedan's ears.

"The only thing that has kept me going all these years, was the hope that someone would come to destroy this accursed thing-".

Footstep scuttled against the ground. Branka charged into the chamber, her shield and axe drawn.

"Do not listen to that fool, Warden!" shouted Branka, who strode up to the behemoth and scowled at him. No doubt that Caridin stood four times as tall as Branka, but the dwarven woman showed no ounce of fear as she brandished her axe. "Foolish old man, you have not seen what Orzammar has become! It is a shadow of it's former glory, the last stronghold before the darkspawn overtake us all! With the Anvil, we can retake all the Thaigs! We can reclaim our heritage as dwarves!"

"I have spent two years of my life searching for this Anvil, and I have sacrificed everything and everyone to get it. Do not get in my way,' she snarled backwards at Aedan, not even giving him a second glance.

"I will not allow you to attempt to take the Anvil." Caridin snapped his fingers, and an armada of golems poured from the sides. About fifty or so poured out from behind him, and half of them circled behind Branka.

Branka scoffed at the surrounding golems and smiled."Oh old man, you think yourself so secure that these are your comrades? They are not dwarves anymore, only mere constructs. They, and their true loyalty, died long ago." She pulled out a rod and brandished into the air. A slew of sparks flew out from the tip and shot across all the golems which had circled behind her. Their bodies lit up and runic symbols glowed brightly on their foreheads.

"A control rod!" Caridin let sparks fly from his fist that shot through the sky. They entered the golems that Branka had not yet controlled, and as the runic symbols attempted to appear on their foreheads, the bodies of the golems glowed. The symbols upon their forehead faded into nothing.

Branka struck her rod into the ground, sending a small current through the air. Those with the brand atop their foreheads glowed red-hot and brandished their fists.

"Please, help me stranger! Do not let this tyranny continue any longer!" pleaded Caridin, who signaled to the golems with self-control to get into formation. The remaining golem's of Caridin lined up facing the other, Branka controlled ones.

"Do not listen to him!" Branka turned to the Warden and said, "You need these golems to stop the Blight! Imagine how many lives you could save on the surface, Warden!"

A bead of sweat rolled down Aedan's forehead at Branka's comment. It was wrong, taking these living creatures and imprisoning them in steel but perhaps for the sacrifice of a few the many could be spared. The mistakes of the past had been made, and the dwarves could learn from that. He could convince Bhelen and Branka to regulate the golem making process- restrict it only to volunteers.

How many families could he save? Not only directly by the hands of golems, but how expedited the process against the Blight would be. Aedan stood there, grinding his teeth and calculating in his head.

_One life for a thousand more. It's simple math, right?_

He had a job to do.

But as Aedan opened his mouth to say his answer, no words left. Only silence would depart his mouth. His throat felt dry and parched, and not from the heat.

Aedan heard behind him a familiar stomping. He turned around to see Shale standing by Caridin. "Shale," whispered Aedan, "I...What are you doing?"

"I will stand...with my brothers and sisters," the golem said. "There should be no more of us made, no matter what. Help me, Warden." The golem paused before adding with a desperate, quiet tone, "Please." Aedan looked to see the golem's hands shaking.

Aedan looked down at the ground, his mind once again racing. It was strange: this one measly golem, who would not even call him by name nor by the proper pronoun, sent a chill through Aedan's heart. For out of all of them, only it- she, only she understood the pain of a golem's existence.

How much was too much of a sacrifice? Someone, somewhere had to draw the line in that grey area. Aedan knew that neither Branka nor Bhelen would do so.

_I don't know what will possibly happen in the future. Maybe this anvil could save us and the dwarves. Maybe it could lead to our destruction. They're all possibilities. But in front of me…_

Aedan clenched his sword, his sweat stinging against the wounds on his hands.

_A comrade is asking for help. It's not some calculation in my head, not some far off possibility. My comrade is in front of me, asking for help._

Aedan walked in between Branka and Caridin, and turned to face Branka, sword drawn.

"Branka, we have to destroy this thing. You can't control the turmoil this thing will bring to Orzammar...you can't know what whether this thing is a curse or blessing. All I know right now is that these golems...only these people know the pain this thing has brought. If they think it's not worth it, then I'll stand with them."

Zevran silently took his place by Aedan's side, his daggers drawn. Oghren hesitated, looking between Branka and Aedan. The dwarf clenched his teeth and his eyes filled with pain and regret. Clenching his eyes shut, he finally took a slow walk towards the side of Aedan. Branka looked on, the sides of her lip quivering.

"Oghren. You too?" came her quieter voice, tinged with sadness.

Oghren turned to face his wife, his weapon still by his side. "Branka, just lay down your weapons and nobody has to get hurt. We can go home again- our house is still there. Please," pleaded Oghren, a tear rolling down his cheek, "We can go back. We can fix what went wrong...just come back."

Silence passed as Branka smiled one last time at her husband. Her eyes filled with glassy tears that refused to fall. Branka hid her face with her dirt stained hand.

"Oh Oghren, you know as well as do...I could never go back home."

Branka wept away a single tear, and with a roar lept forward.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

And we're back. Sorry for the incredibly long delay guys. It's just been a busy term and I've taken on a lot more work and responsibilities than usual, so balancing time has been bit of an issue. I have some vacation days thanks to the holidays, so I'll have some time to generate a backlog.

If you're all still out there reading, then feel free to leave a review, ask a question, or leave some constructive critcism.


	44. Sacrifices

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 44: Sacrifices_

A clash of steel and rock thundered throughout the cavern. The constant banging of steel against steel deafened Aedan's ears as he struggled to keep up with Branka. Literal shockwaves shot through the air as golems clashed. His bones shook with each step the behemoths took, but he had another problem to worry about. Branka lept backwards as a golem rushed into Aedan. Aedan braced his body and held up his shield, but to no avail; the rampaging golem sent Aedan flying backwards onto his back. Aedan coughed blood as his pain seared through his entire body.

"You think what you're doing is right? Look at what you traveled through. The Deep Roads are the graveyard of our former civilization. What do you think happens after the Blight? The darkspawn return home underground to push us further back. How long before Orzammar is lost?" screamed Branka, spit flying from her mouth,"It's idealists like you that led to the downfall of our nation!" She charged at him and sliced her axe downwards. Aedan rolled out of the way and retrieved his sword and shield. His sword and Branka's axe rang out as they clashed in a blur of steel.

"How about you! You sacrificed your entire house just to get here! I saw Hespith and the others, what you let the darkspawn turn them into!" Aedan slammed his leg into Branka and kicked her back.

"They knew the risks!" screamed Branka. Her axe whirled about and grazed the tip of Aedan's ear. Aedan could barely keep up with her. This was the fury of woman tempered by two years of fighting darkspawn twice her size. One by one golems from both sides clattered to the ground, their metal shells dented and broken by their comrade's fists. Shale glowed with a dazzling blue light as she thrust her fist through another golem's chest. Shards of metal flew everywhere across the battleground. One flew right past Aedan and sliced him across the cheek.

"It was your fucking responsibility to protect them! You were their leader!" Aedan rammed forward and knocked Branka down with his shield. He didn't waste his time raising his sword for an overhead strike- Aedan thrust the tip of his sword forward straight at Branka's leg. The sword sliced through the woman's flesh, and Branka howled.

With a vicious roar Branka propelled herself off the ground with one push of her arm and slammed a dagger into Aedan's leg. Aedan staggered backwards and gritted his teeth. He pulled the dagger out and whipped it at Branka. The knife sliced through her left eye as she charged forward, axe in hand. She didn't even wince as the blood gushed forth from her face.

"It is because I was their leader that I had the right to sacrifice them! I commanded, they followed, just like these golems now!" Branka's axe collided with Aedan's sword, their faces now dangerously close. Aedan could see the blood and sweat run down her face. "Or are you foolish enough to think that you can get anywhere without sacrificing something?" she spat at him.

Aedan parried Branka's blow and threw her to the ground. Her axe was flung away off the edge of the cliff. A nearby golem slammed it's fist into the ground again and again. Aedan could feel his bones vibrating inside his body with each blow. The rocks beneath them shook. Aedan tried to jumped towards more stable ground, but the ledge Branka and Aedan were on collapsed, sending the two tumbling downwards. With his longer limbs, Aedan managed to grab onto the edge of the cliff before fell. He grunted as he struggled to pull himself up, his bleeding body and armor all. Finally his body collapsed on the cliffside, a small pool of blood forming underneath him. Still, in his haze, he managed to garner up enough strength to turn around and reach his hand down towards Branka, who hung precariously off the cliffside. Her shorter limbs meant that she could not reach any good holds, but if she swung her free arm upwards, Aedan might be able to grab onto her.

"Is this supposed to be funny?" croaked Branka, "Mercy, after everything I've done? You really are a fool." Rocks continued to tumble down from the cliffside; her hold would not stay stable for long. Aedan reached down even further, ignoring the pain that shot through the side of his chest. "Take my hand!" he screamed.

Oghren smashed his axe into the final golem's head and rushed over to Aedan. He lurched over the side of the cliff and shouted at his wife with trembling voice, "Take his hand Branka, by the Ancestors!"

Crimson blood gushed out of Branka's bleeding left eye. She squeezed it shut and opened the other one the best she could, staring at Aedan in fury. "So what? So I can watch as you let everything I've sacrificed be for nothing?" she spat still trying to climb her way up by herself, "So I can watch as our great culture and people crumble just because you felt sorry for a couple of golems? So I can watch as the Blight kills everything in Thedas?"

Aedan inched further out, reaching his hand until his fingers grazed against Branka's; he wasn't sure if he could grab her by force. "Just take my hand, god damn it!"

"Promise then you will save the Anvil!" screamed Branka shrilly, "So that all of this would have been for something!"

Aedan and Branka stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. As he peered into her eyes, he saw a myriad of twisted emotions: desperation, pride, sadness, malice, guilt, and so many more others. Her gaze wavered and strengthened and wavered again. "I can't do that," Aedan whispered sadly.

With a roar, Branka drove her dagger straight through Aedan's hand. Aedan howled in agony as the knife buried itself into his flesh. He slid further out and his balance was lost; his legs flailed as he struggled to dig his feet into the ground to keep himself from veering off the edge. He couldn't think straight with the throbbing pain shooting through his hand. Luckily, Zevran grabbed hold of his legs and hoisted him to safety. Aedan lay chet down with his face still peering over the edge, looking at the defiant Branka.

"Every single life that could have been saved by those golems, all the people who could have saved by these golems stopping the blight, they're all on you," spat Branka. Her sweaty bloodied grip slipped. She had only one hand clasping onto the jagged cliff. Aedan clutched his maimed hand in agony as he watched Branka hang precariously in front of him. "They're all on you, you monster," she whispered one last time.

Branka let go and plummeted into the depths below.

* * *

><p>Aedan winced as he tightened the bandages around his midsection. For now, bandages and poultices would have to keep him until they found Morrigan and Wynne again. He watched as the other golems gathered up the broken pieces of their former comrades. It looked like a junkyard, with the scraps of metal and steel strewn about, but to these golems it was the battlefield where they had lost so many of their comrades. Aedan bit his lip; the scene left a bitter taste in his mouth.<p>

He turned to look at Oghren, but the dwarf wouldn't look him in the eyes. Oghren had that dead look in his eyes, the same one Aedan had seen in Alistair's after Ostagar. Aedan surveyed the rest of his companions: Zevran had made it out better than all of them, albeit only with a few cuts and scrapes. He had dodged in and out during the fight. Branka had been right; the elf had been scrawny, and his dagger blows were no more than pins to the golems. The bandaged elf sat on the ground with a bitter expression, lamenting his own uselessness but thankful to be alive.

"I have forged you a crown fit for the finest king." The crown shined with a brilliance akin to the sun, which Aedan found ironic for a king of the underground. Shale followed behind him. She had conversed with Caridin as he had smithed the crown. She had asked simple questions- "Who am I?", "Where was I from?", and replied to Caridin's with simple yes's and no's. The golem still seemed shocked at the recent revelation concerning it's former life. If Aedan hadn't known any better, he would say the golem was stumbling a bit as it walked, as though unsure whether or not her stone legs were truly hers anymore.

"Now, will you destroy the Anvil?" asked Caridin, who carefully handed the crown, wrapped in cloth, to Oghren. Aedan nodded quietly and groaned as he struggled to stand on his own two feet. He could still feel Branka's stabs throbbing in his leg and hand. Aedan's hands wrapped around the rusty heavy handle of the smithing hammer. He limped over to the anvil, where he could feel the heat and pressure of the lava beneath him simmer in the air. He raised the hammer above his head, but paused.

"I have one more request, if I may be so bold," asked Aedan."You have suffered for an eternity, but I ask you suffer for only a few more minutes. I have...had a sword." He set down the hammer softly and held up the sword shards, it's bag soaked in his own blood. "A mage broke it some time ago. The metal's structure has been destroyed by the magic. No smith has been able to reforge it."

He scattered the shards across the Anvil of the Void and bowed his head before Caridin. "This is my own selfish request. This is all I have left of my family."

Caridin clasped a piece between his titanic metal hands and brought up close to his glowing eye. The light in it dimmed and brightened repeatedly as the smith turned the shard over and over again. "The chemical bonds have been broken down on such a small scale that you cannot even fathom how small it is. We will need to reforge these bonds using lyrium and metal."

"And how do we do that?"

"We extract it from source that utilizes both perfectly."

Caridin pointed to the shattered bodies of his comrades that littered the battlefield.

"You mean-"

"In all living creatures, there is a system of nerves that run through each and every one of our bodies. Using this system, our brains sends signals akin to that of the lightning summoned by mages. I expanded upon this theory, theorizing that lyrium could be used as a similar system running through the entire golem's body. As we poured in the metal and lyrium into the golem shells atop the living creatures, the lyrium bounded to their nerves and provided a vessel for the soul to communicate with the metal."

"I shall melt down their bodies, and use extract the few lyrium-metal bonds in each that held the soul to the metal."

"I…" Aedan hesitated, before explaining, "they're your comrades. Are you sure?"

Caridin made a noise akin to a small laugh. "I think they would not have minded serving under a man like you, would you not agree, Shale?"

The only other golem left, Shale stood amidst the corpses of her brethren, looking around at the dead. She stared at Aedan briefly. With that stone face, Aedan could not tell what the golem was thinking, but after awhile Shale muttered, "I am not opposed."

Caridin nodded and began to arrange the pieces of Aedan's sword upon the Anvil. "As for the design...would kind of sword would you like? I can craft anything...a rapier, a saber, anything you can imagine. Can you maybe sketch me what it used to look like?"

Closing his eyes, Aedan tried to put into words what the sword had originally looked like. Something simple, with a bit of gold trim- wait no there wasn't any trim. What did the handle look like? Aedan grimaced bitterly. He could not remember what his family sword looked like, nor even describe it in the slightest. Before, when he was a child, he had idolized his family's sword as a symbol of strength and justice. In the past year, he had seen so many swords and weapons that had all blurred together in his mind, each and everyone of them stained with the blood of others.

His eyes moistened. How long before he forgot his family's voices, or their faces? The weary warden shook his head to scatter his train of thought. No. He had to focus. He had been plucked from death, by his parents, by Duncan, by Flemeth, all for one job. That was all he had left. Aedan clenched his bloodied right hand. "I want a sword to kill an Archdemon with," he stated resolutely.

Caridin nodded. "Then I shall make a sword worthy of such a task." The Anvil began to glow a unholy heat, with blue flames billowing from it's sides. Caridin smashed and smashed his hammer against the Anvil. With each blow Aedan could feel the heat blast against his face. The others helped ferry the broken pieces of golems to Caridin, and drop them into the boiling vat of metal nearby. Caridin scooped out the molten metal with his bare hands and carefully separated the pure liquid from the rest. Eventually, a sword began to take shape. The inner edge closest to the hilt had jagged teeth, no doubt for garroting the Archdemon's neck. The hilt had no decoration or formal handle to speak of; Caridin had not bothered with anything of the sort. Once the metal had cooled, Caridin handed the sword to Aedan.

Aedan held the sword in his hands. It was heavier than he remembered, no doubt due to the golem metal that had been added. He eyed the sword up and down. The long blade did not shine; the old metal of both the Cousland blade and the golem metal had long ago lost their shine. Instead it had a dull, grey color to it. _A grey blade for a Grey Warden_, thought Aedan.

As the Anvil's began to cool, Caridin stepped aside and beckoned to the Anvil. "If you would, Warden. The Anvil should no longer remain in this world."

Aedan stood above the Anvil and raised the sword with both hands. "If your hammer didn't destroy it, how long will it take for me to destroy it?" he asked.

"The curse is such that I cannot destroy. But age has long since weakened the Anvil. Tis now a simple job," said Caridin.

Aedan nodded and swung the former Cousland blade downwards. As his sword hit the metal anvil, he felt the force travel through the tip of sword and vibrate through his bones painfully. Aedan cringed and shut his eyes, but felt the sword travel further downwards. He looked down to see that indeed the Anvil had been destroyed. The ground rumbled beneath him as beams of magical energy dispersed from the accursed object. Aedan found it ironic that an object that created such powerful beings was destroyed with such little force. "What's next for you?" asked Aedan of Caridin, strapping the sword to his side.

"My family, my friends, and everything I ever cared about are gone. My final job has been completed. There is nothing else for me in this world," whispered Caridin. The golem slowly walked towards the edge of the cliff. After hundreds of years guarding the Anvil, there was no hesitation as Caridin stood above the chasm beneath him.

"Thank you for freeing all of us of this burden," said the aged golem wearily, "Atrast nal tunsha...May you always find your way in the dark." The golem teetered over the edge then tumbled into the abyss of lava below him. As the light in the ancient golem's face flickered and died, Aedan watched the lava seep in through the cracks and joints of Caridin.

* * *

><p>Morrigan wrung her hands together as she anxiously awaited Aedan's return. How long had it been? Morrigan couldn't keep track of the hours in this dimly lit environment. They had lit candles to give some light. All the group sat around them as though they were a campfire, and they too had pensive looks on their faces.<p>

_I guess they are worried too, _thought Morrigan. Indeed, after Aedan and the three others had rushed off, it had taken awhile for her to calm down. Even still, it felt like something had wrapped itself around her innards and was squeezing tight. She attempted to take long, deep breaths to calm herself. That sickening feeling constricting her heart remained.

Morrigan could feel the ground rumble beneath. The doors withdrew upwards slowly. The others carefully go up, ready for whatever could come through the door. The hazy flames of the chamber shone into the tunnel. The light blinded Morrigan for awhile, before her vision returned and she saw the figures of Aedan and others approach from behind the pillars of stone.

The limping Aedan cradled his bloody hand. "That idiot," whispered Morrigan as her heart dropped at the sight of his wounded body. Morrigan bolted over and grabbed him by the hand. Her fingers quickly unweaved the tight bandages to reveal warm bloody knife wound. As Morrigan held his hand in her own, she could feel the heavy beat of his heart pumping out blood. The blood dribbled down her own wrists as her hand glowed bright green with magical energy. The wound closed just enough to stop bleeding, then Morrigan released Aedan's hand and began to examine him for more wounds. The Warden stumbled backwards, dizzy from blood loss.

"Stop standing, fool," snapped the witch. Morrigan pushed down on his shoulders and Aedan slid down against the wall, unable to resist even the meager amount of force Morrigan had applied. She kneeled over him and her hands glowed brighter than usual, so much so Aedan had to close his eyes. Her hands moved over his body frantically. Aedan looked at the worried expression on her face and muttered,"My injuries aren't that bad aren't they?" He grabbed Morrigan's wrist lightly, stopping her panic. The raven-haired witch glared at him and pulled her wrist away.

"I do not know the extent of your injuries. I was not there with you to fight, now was I?" she snapped, her voice rising with each word, leaving an uncomfortable feeling in Aedan's gut.

"Ah," murmured Aedan, as he realized how much he had made Morrigan worry.

"'Ah'? That's all you have to say?," said Morrigan, "I was expecting you to say something like, 'Oh, even you get worried?'"

"Sorry, just-"

Aedan let the back of his head bang against the wall once as Branka's words echoed in his mind.

_They're all on you, you monster, she screamed._

"Sorry," he whispered quietly to Morrigan, his gaze falling to his chest. Morrigan took an anxious note of the man's darkened demeanor. The rest of the group that returned seemed rather dour as well. Shale silently stood by watching as Wynne took care of Zevran's wounds. Oghren looked out into the distance sadly. Morrigan looked back at Aedan in front of her, who once again was trying to hide his worries.

She wasn't sure why, but Morrigan felt compelled to blurt out,"You know, something very important happened while you were gone."

Aedan furrowed his brow and prepared himself for whatever news may come. What could have happened in that chamber? Did they discover one of them contracted the Blight? Another form of infectious disease? Had their food supply been ruined? Had they run out of fresh wat-

"Alistair screamed like a girl again when one of the candles got too near him," stated Morrigan deadpan. It took a moment for the woozy Aedan to comprehend what she had just said. Slowly a smile crept across his face. He began to laugh deep from his stomach, coughing up tiny flecks of blood.

"I thought we said we weren't going to talk about that anymore!" seethed Alistair quietly. His face grew red again as Leliana patted him on the back in pity.

"I never agreed. I make it a point to never agree to anything you say," replied Morrigan.

Oghren burst out in hysterics as held his sides sore from combat and laughing. His beard bobbed up and down as he shook in laughter. Zevran hid a quiet smile and chuckled to himself. Of course, Morrigan had not found the joke to be all that funny, but seeing the smile return to Aedan's face made one return to hers as well. The pain that had welled up in her chest slowly began to trickle away as she held and healed Aedan's injured hand amidst the laughter that echoed through the chamber.

* * *

><p>The obnoxious rabbling of the Assembly reminded him of the Landsmeet. Aedan had never particularly enjoyed attending it, and only went the entire family needed to be represented. Regardless, after the three week trip back from the Anvil, Aedan wanted out of Orzammar as soon as possible. He wanted to feel the sun on his face, feel the wind on his skin, and see the wide open sky.<p>

He heard the hushed whispers as Aedan heaved open the Assembly doors. The representatives of each house all turned their gazes towards, all muttering in thought. Bhelen smiled deviously as Aedan made his way down the long stairway.

"And what, Warden, might you be doing here. This is a Dwarven matter, not one for surfacers," said Harrowmont, the edges of his lips subtly pointed into a frown. Aedan doubted that the man liked him ever since word got out he was working for Bhelen.

Aedan raised above his head a dazzling gold crown. "I have a crown, made by the Paragon Caridin. He was trapped in a golem's body for several hundred years. I came upon him in my search for Paragon Branka and the Anvil of the Void. In the process, the Anvil and both Paragon Branka were lost...but before Caridin committed suicide, he gave me this crown to give to the rightful king of Orzammar."

Aedan turned and pointed to Bhelen, "Of the House Aeducan, your rightful king sits before, as declared by your Ancestors."

The Assembly exploded in shouts and chaos. The Shaperate banged his gavel against his podium as he screamed, "Quiet, let the Warden speak!"

"Objection!" shouted Harrowmont, his voice hoarse and quivering."Are we are supposed to believe this surfacers lies? It is a known fact that he works for Bhelen!" The dwarf tugged lightly on his beard as he watched the smug Bhelen.

"Say what you will, Harrowmont, but check the mark upon the crown, and the dating." Aedan handed the crown to the Shaperate, who took out his looking glass and examined the crown top to bottom. After several moments of silence, the old dwarf remarked,"This is dated...two weeks ago. And this is indeed Caridin's mark. Furthermore, this man is no ordinary commoner. He is a Grey Warden, one who has cleansed this city of the Carta. He has all the necessary proof to back his claims."

"Then does the Assembly acknowledge the legitimacy of my claims?" announced Aedan, surveying the auditorium of dwarven nobles. The dwarfs muttered amongst themselves for a few minutes while Aedan anxiously waited. One by one, all in the Assembly raised their hands in silence. A bead of sweat dripped down Harrowmont's neck as he eyed the exit.

"Then let it be recorded in the Memories that Bhelen of House Aeducan is the new king of Orzammar!" shouted the Shaperate. Bhelen crossed his arms and smirked as the Shaperate walked towards him. The prince bowed before the shaperate, allowing him to place the golden crown upon his head. Bhelen stood back up, a prince no longer.

"Thank you all for all your...support," slithered Bhelen as he eyed each and every supporter of Harrowmont amongst the noble crowds. The Assembly had been split evenly, so he had many people to turn his sinister gaze upon. At last his eyes fell upon Harrowmont as he gave his former opponent one final grin. Bhelen turned this grin to the Assembly. His eyes narrowed as his tone lightened. "I promise you all, my rule as king shall drag Orzammar into the modern age, and bring to us dwarves a new prosperity the likes of which we have never seen!" The now king raised his arms and gave a hearty with a glowing smile. "So as my first order as king, to clear the path for future reforms, I order the usurper and his house wiped from Orzammar!"

_Wait, what? _thought Aedan. All those in the crowd who had supported Harrowmont fell deadly silent. The guards immediately surrounded the unarmed Harrowmont and drew their swords. Harrowmont shook in terror as the tips' of the swords neared his neck.

The guardsmen saluted Bhelen, albeit reluctantly."Then we shall take this man into cust-"

Bhelen cocked his head to the side and asked,"I don't believe you heard me correctly guardsmen. When your king orders you to do something, you do it immediately." Bhelen turned back to the Assembly and shouted, "The traitor dies here and now!"

Aedan stormed towards the direction of Bhelen, his teeth clenched in anger."Hold on! I didn't give you this crown to be a tyrant!" Before he could take another step, Bhelen pointed at the Warden. All the guardsmen in the chamber lept forward and pointed their swords at Aedan, yet hesitated before drawing near. One nervously inched forward, but another pulled him backwards, shaking his head in fear.

Bhelen approached Aedan with a stern expression. "You gave me this crown to change things. Progress is paved with sacrifice. I cannot afford to have the usurper live."

"You don't have to kill him!" whispered Aedan angrily.

Bhelen adjusted the crown upon his head and smiled at Aedan. "If it was just about killing him, Warden, then it it would be personal. But since I'm not just killing him, but his entire house, it's called politics." Bhelen now stood directly in front of Aedan, staring up into the Warden's furious gaze.

"I have no doubt that you could kill me right now. Did you see the mess that you left at the Carta hideout? You're a real monster, you know that. Look at these guardsmen- they're scared shitless of you," chuckled Bhelen, pointing at one trembling guardsmen in particular. "But you've already said that Caridin gave me this crown; you can't take back your words any longer."

Bhelen tugged down on Aedan's collar and brought him down to his eye level."Listen here, Warden," sneered Bhelen, staring at Aedan with determined eyes, "You run your mouth off at me and disrespect me further in front of my people, then our deal is off, treaty be damned. You of all people understand that I need to cement my rule, now more than ever, or else my reforms regarding the casteless will not pass. So feel free to try and kill me, but I know what a man like you is going to do. You are going to get up, walk out, and let me kill this man and his house, so you can get your army. Because men like us choose the greater good."

Bhelen stepped backwards and smugly crossing his arms. Aedan hand clenched around Nan's knife at his side. The dwarven king snapped his fingers and the guards around Aedan sheathed their swords.

Aedan grimaced as he realized Bhelen had indeed outmaneuvered him: he had gotten Aedan to all his dirty work for him and put him on the throne, all by dangling the promise of more troops. The warden weighed his options. He could kill Bhelen right now, but it was almost guaranteed Aedan would not survive the onslaught of guards who would pursue him. If Aedan killed the dwarven king, no doubt the Assembly would not send troops for him. After all, who would follow the man who slew their country's king? Furthermore, without the golems, Aedan needed all the troops he could get, and that included the casteless. Even if Aedan saved Harrowmont's life, he had no guarantee the dwarf would bolster his army with more troops.

_It won't just be him though. It'll be his entire house. Bhelen is thorough like that._

Aedan stared at the ground in silence, calculating his next move. His head pounded. He ran through all the possible paths in his head, but each one ended in the same disaster. His fists clenched, Aedan reluctantly turned his back on Harrowmont and began his long walk towards the exit. Each step he took felt heavy and painful, like wading through a pool of blood and daggers. As his hands wrapped around the stone handle to the outside of the chamber, Aedan gulped as he heard the roaring of Assembly members and the begging of Harrowmont.

Aedan, against his better judgement, felt his gaze drawn back towards Harrowmont. His back began to turn to see the man, after Aedan has just condemned him to death. What would his expression be? Hatred? Sadness? Regret? He had to know.

Just as Aedan turned around, a fleshy thud echoed through the chambers.

_Oh._

Harrowmont's bloodied head rolled on the ground, staring at him.

Aedan took one glance, then turned back around and shut the stone doors behind him. Everything felt numb as he made his way through the entrance hallway. Outside two guards stood at attention as they faced out into the Diamond Quarter. As Aedan stepped outside into the streets, he asked the guard quietly, "How many members does House Harrowmont have?"

The guard rubbed his eyes from exhaustion and yawned,"Several hundred strong, not including the women, children, and merchants."

"Including them?" whispered Aedan, his voice hoarse and weak.

"I'd say about five hundred. Why?" replied the guard. Once the guard said that number, Aedan's entire world began to blur. His heart clamped up as though someone were squeezing it. He could feel his heartbeat thumping in his head as his eyes lost focus. His hands felt cold and clammy. Aedan slowly staggered away from the Assembly entrance. His feet carried him forward, ignoring the dwarfs that he bumped into. Feeling hazy, Aedan sat down at the nearest bench he could find.

When Branka had left, she had brought all her house's warriors, numbering about three hundred. All of them had known that they might never return. Harrowmont's house members would likely be stormed by guards in the middle of their meals, not knowing the vengeance that Bhelen was raining down upon them. No doubt, Bhelen would kill any potential heirs Harrowmont might have. Aedan wouldn't put it past him to be so vengeful that he wish to erase the Harrowmont name from history for daring to stand against him.

_What have I done?_

The numbers worked out though. So Harrowmont's house died- thousands more lives would be made better by Bhelen's reforms. The casteless would not die on the streets and Orzammar would not die from economic turmoil. _Or are you foolish enough to think that you can get anywhere without sacrificing something? _screamed Branka from beyond the grave.

Despite that rationalization, the dead feeling in Aedan's chest still lingered. What would his family say, if they had known he had caused this? That he had sacrificed children no older than Oren? He, like Howe, Branka, Zathrian, and Loghain, had just sacrificed countless innocents to achieve his goals.

Aedan buried his head in his hands.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Another bitter ending for Aedan, and it won't get any easier. Later then I would have liked the chapter, but at least it wasn't a whole three months this time. A few quick remarks.

-No flashback this chapter, wanted to just get the chapter out quicker.

-Bhelen does indeed hunt down the Harrowmont house, as seen from a particular DA2 sidequest. From the the fact that Harrowmont's house is one of the oldest (far older then Branka's) I assume that it has more members.

-I wanted to emphasize the downsides of picking Bhelen this chapter as well as the upsides; sure, he'll bring about change, but he's also ruthless. I always liked Orzammar in game the best because the choice was greyer than the rest.

_Replies to reviews:_

Urazz: Yeah, Aedan is particularly susceptible to his comrade's pleas. I'll actually be exploring that a little more soon.

RedStrobeLight: Glad you like, loads of progression coming soon in the next few chapters.

Stunner911: Glad you liked it.

Jarjaxle: I wanted to make Branka a little more symphateic than the initial playthrough makes her out to be. I was actually surprised to learn you can make her, once you've killed Caridin, realize the error of her ways and destroy the Anvil.

As always, feel free to review, leave constructive criticism, or ask questions. Hope you enjoyed and see you next time.


	45. Followers

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 45: Followers_

_Aedan grunted as he attempted to move his bandage wrapped arm to grab a glass of water off his side table. Of all the injuries that had befallen him, the broken arm had not even been caused directly by Adair; when Frederic had been cutting him from the chair, Aedan had fallen over onto his own arm and twisted it the wrong way._

_Aedan mentally reminded himself never to get tortured again._

_After the incident, Frederic had alerted the nearest guardsmen, who then carried him back to the Cousland estate. Aedan's memory of that point had been hazy, as the overwhelming pain had occupied his thoughts. Several bandages and the aid of one mage later, Aedan had been confined to his room and bed, wrapped in luxurious sheets and old bandages._

_As Aedan sipped his water, he wondered where Adair had gotten off to. After that night at Frederic's house, Aedan had heard nothing from Adair. Granted, thought Aedan, the constant guardsmen by his side might explain that issue._

_The name of the village, however, did not leave Aedan's mind. Westholme. Aedan had heard a mention of it once, as it seemed they had a rather fine brewery there. Other than that though, it was an otherwise unremarkable town. One of the only other highlights is that it was a layover for merchants coming in and out of Redcliffe, as the Westholme was only a days ride from Redcliffe._

_Was the bastard there?_

_Bryce and Eleanor walked into the room as Aedan was pondering. Their entrance broke his train of thought as they had rather somber frowns. "Hey, you too look a little serious. What's up?" asked Aedan with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, but his parents still did not smile._

_"Aedan," said Bryce, "your mother and I think that it's probably for the best that we get out of Denerim for awhile. However this Adair is, he has it out for the Couslands."_

_"Come on Father, don't let a little torture scar-"_

_"Aedan, your mother and I were worried sick about you!" said his father, his voice raised and trembling, " The royal guard told us not to leave the premises at night until this man had been caught, and yet you did anyways. How do you think we felt when we saw them bring in you all bloodied and broken?" Eleanor Cousland squeezed her husband's arm as she thought about that night._

_Stunned at his father's tone, Aedan stuttered quietly, "Father, I didn't think-"_

_"You need to think for once!" yelled his father. Looking under at his father's face, Aedan could see the bags under his eyes."For gods sake, maybe you don't care what happens to yourself, or perhaps you think you can just shoulder everything, but you have a family that cares about what happen to you! Stop running off and keeping secrets!" Bryce sighed and rubbed his brow. "Grow up a little, Aedan. You're a man now."_

_Aedan watched in silence as his parents left the room. The guards fidgeted awkwardly as Aedan lay contemplating their words._

* * *

><p>"So you're just going to let him die?"<p>

Aedan paused before sipping on his water. "Yes," he muttered. Leliana stared at him with fiery eyes filled with anger. "Aedan, what about the rest of his house? Are you just going to let them die too?" The red haired bard looked at him desperately for some sign that Aedan would go back on his decision.

Instead, the Warden simply exhaled calmly and said, "We need Bhelen's support. We can't oppose him on this." The water ran down his throat as he tipped the cup backwards once again. He tried to seem as calm as possible. Aedan simply sat there, sipping his water while some of the others looked incredulously at him, particularly Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne. The former assassin, Zevran, did not say anything in protest, but even he seemed to be offput by the decision. Perhaps it was the fact that children would be killed. Aedan couldn't really tell what would disgust Zevran,

It felt like forever since he had walked back into the door and told the group what had happened in the Assembly chamber. _Maybe_, thought Aedan, the side of his mouth twitching,_ it's because I've had several people berating me for quite some time. _

The blood had been spilled. Harrowmont was dead. The papers had confirmed the deaths of at least a hundred more members of his house. Bhelen's guards had stormed the Harrowmont estate by surprise and slaughtered them all. Many more had fled once the news had broke out. No doubt Bhelen would send assassins after them to kill any seeds of uprising. Aedan could no longer take back his decision. He would try his best to live with it and all the consequences.

Infuriated by the apathetic look on Aedan's face, Leliana threw her hands into the air, finally relenting. Alistair, however, would not stop his barrage of criticism. "Aedan, we have to go and help out the rest of them, or do something!" iterated Alistair for what seemed like the fifth time.

"I told you, Alistair, it's out of our hands. Those who could escape have done so, and we wouldn't be able to find them anyways."

"You're not even trying to help them!" seethed the templar, who slammed his hands down on the table. "You're just sitting here like nothing's wrong!"

"I never said I enjoyed making the decision, but it was best choice at the time."

"The best choice is sacrificing innocents? Do you hear yourself?" asked Alistair incredulously. He shook his head in diesbelief at Aedan's words. "You know who also sacrificed innocents, Aedan? Loghain, and he's the one we're supposed to be defeating, not becoming."

Aedan took a deep breath to hold in his anger. He was already mentally beating himself up for his decision. He didn't need others to do it outside his mind. "We're supposed to be stopping the Blight, and that's why I made that decision," stated Aedan. He paused and gave a cold, steely look at Alistair. "We're Grey Wardens, that's what we do."

"Being Grey Wardens doesn't give us an excuse to be monsters-"

The clay cup cracked between Aedan's grip."You think it's so easy, Alistair why don't you try making the hard decisions for once, instead of lazing around and handing it off to me? How about you do the goddamn job that was supposed to be yours?" snapped Aedan. It took him a second to process what he had just said. He looked at the awkward expressions on the other companions faces. Alistair simply stared at his fellow Warden, his mouth slightly open in shock. "Fuck you," spat Alistair, before storming out of the room. Aedan cringed and rubbed his brow with his hand. One by one all of his companions left the room in silence, save Morrigan. The witch lingered behind him in silence as Aedan let his forehead sit against the edge of his cup.

"The templar will get over it," stated Morrigan, shaking her head a bit.

"He has a right to be angry. I made it personal when we were just arguing over the validity of a decision," lamented Aedan quietly. In politics, such a slip up could mean the entire collapse of an important deal: his father had taught him that. As a Cousland, he had been taught poise and courtesy, yet Aedan had let his emotions get the better of him. More importantly, Alistair was his friend- perhaps one of the closest he had ever had. He didn't deserve what Aedan had said to him.

"You made the best decision you could," said Morrigan, lightly placing her hand on Aedan's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered to Morrigan. Her words made Aedan feel a little better, but words were not enough to ease his guilt. The witch remained for a few more seconds, her hand on his shoulder, before quietly leaving along with the rest.

Alone in the room, all Aedan had to keep him company were his thoughts. Seeing as how that was the last company he'd like to keep, Aedan muttered to himself, "I need a drink," put on his jacket, and headed out towards the bar. He didn't care to inform anyone where he was going. He didn't want to talk. He just wanted to dull the thinking in his head, the constant crunching of numbers in his head.

* * *

><p>"Barkeep. scotch," grumbled Aedan as he slouched over the bar counter. Aedan nursed yet another scotch as he stared down into the bottom of golden-brown liquid. He hadn't kept count of how much he'd had yet. Realizing he still hadn't paid the bartender yet, Aedan rummaged around in his knapsack for some dwarven coins. After a minute of searching to no avail, Aedan simply grabbed a fistful of whatever was in his bag and emptied it onto the table. A vial from the pile rolled precariously towards the edge of the table. Aedan snatched the moving vial into his hand before realizing what it was: Avernus's mixture, an experiment fueled by hundreds of years of torture and death, had almost rolled off the side of the table in a bar.<p>

The warden knew how irresponsible to simply keep the vial in his bag. What if it broke? Then truly the countless human sacrifices used to perfect the experiment would go to waste. Aedan was not in a position where he could afford himself even the smallest irresponsibilities. He could no longer afford to make mistakes. Aedan sighed and downed the rest of his glass. Lives hinged on every one of his decisions. It wasn't a good feeling.

Aedan thumb rubbed the cork bottling the vial. His fingernail dragged against the glass as Aedan contemplated. Certainly, it was wrong for Avernus to run the experiments in the first place, but the past was the past. Just like how he could no longer change his decision regarding Bhelen and Harrowmont, neither could Avernus regarding his experiments.

_That's what I told Alistair, right? It's not our job to protect innocents. It's to stop the Blight, no matter what._

Just as Aedan was about to uncork the vial, a familiar pungent scent struck Aedan. The Warden crinkled his nose and glanced sideways. "Oghren?" slurred Aedan, the effect of several drinks already taking effect. The dwarf's bright red hair and beard made him seem like a reddish blob to Aedan. "Thought you went home?

"That ain't my home anymore," said Oghren as he downed his ale, "Made me too unhappy; home's supposed to be a happy place."

Aedan grimaced at Oghren's words. He could certainly empathize with the dwarf. "So where you gonna live after this?" he asked.

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd be willing to let me travel with you. Figure you could use another warrior."

Aedan's drunken mind took a few seconds to process what Oghren had said. He wasn't sure if he was hearing Oghren right. "You'd...want to follow me? After what I did to your wife? After what I let Bhelen do?" The warden hiccuped and stared down into the bottom of his glass in dead silence. "I did the math, Oghren," he whispered, "In just one hour, I sentenced more people to death than Branka did in two years."

"I'm not going to tell you you're better than Branka...both of you have had to sacrifice people. The difference is, Branka kept it together. Calm as a fiddle- but you care, Warden. All those lives you sacrificed? They mean something to you, and that's why you're here drowning away your sorrows."

Oghren clinked his glass against Aedan.

"That's the kind of man I want to follow. The one who knows how valuable the things he's sacrificing are."

* * *

><p>Several weeks after leaving Orzammar, Morrigan and Aedan sat together inside of her tent. Morrigan had insisted that she check up on Aedan's wounds since the Anvil, seeing as how he had been stabbed in his sword-wielding hand. The dagger had left a large scar on both sides of his right hand, and still hurt a bit whenever Aedan gripped down on his sword hilt. The few hours between him getting the wound and receiving medical attention had certainly hampered his healing.<p>

"Your grip is not shaky?" asked Morrigan. One hand cradled Aedan's right while with the other she pressed her fingers methodically against the scar. She pressed deeper on a pressure point and watched as Aedan's finger twitched a little; a good sign that all was well.

"A little painful, but I can hold my sword fine."

Morrigan motioned for Aedan to turn around. "Time for your back."

Morrigan traced her finger down one particularly unattractive scar that ran his back; one of many. "When Mother brought you inside my hut, you did not have nearly as many scars," mused Morrigan. Indeed, the Warden had acquired many more scars since then. The werewolf bites had never fully healed, leaving deep red gashes in his back. He had a patch of burn scars from fighting abominations. Numerous sword gashes and dagger blows had left marks all over his body. Morrigan and Wynne's magic, although extensive, could not completely prevent scars, unlike Flemeth.

When Morrigan had first met Aedan, she thought him reckless. He often taunted enemies into attacking him instead of others. In terms of pure offensive power, there was no doubt that others like Sten and Shale killed more than him during battle. It didn't make sense that he'd attract so many enemies to him despite not being able to kill them all. Yet as time went one, Morrigan saw what Aedan was doing, even if he himself didn't realize it. By attracting the enemies to him, his teammates could concentrate solely on offense. Of course, thought Morrigan, that strategy probably wasn't why he did it. Morrigan did not know much about him; she knew only as far back as the scars on his back, but at the very least she knew that Aedan didn't want to see his comrades hurt.

Why was it he did the things he did? Morrigan felt a hunger to learn more about him. She liked those little moments where she learnt new things about him. One time, Aedan had accidentally let slip he had saved a king from an assassin. Everytime she uncovered a piece of his past, Morrigan felt as though the picture became clearer, but he still seemed distant and out of reach: not that she was any different.

It seemed strange, the juxtaposition of their situations. His intentions were an open book; it was clear what Aedan was fighting for, yet his past remained a mystery to all his companions. It was as though the tale of the Warden had simply started that night at Ostagar. In comparison, Morrigan bared the earlier tales of her life to Aedan: her adventures while shapeshifted, her first forays into civilization, and her lessons from her mother. Yet she had still not told him why she was truly here, and would not until the right time.

Morrigan glanced over and wondered if Aedan ever felt the same- if he ever smiled quietly when he heard the stories of her past. Her glance fell upon her knapsack. Should she give her item to him? Now was as good a time as ever. As she opened her mouth to speak, her throat went dry and the words would not leave.

"Thought you said scars add character," said Aedan stretched his arms out and groaned as he pulled a previously injured muscle.

The thought of her gift moved to the back of her mind as Morrigan continued her conversation. "Up until a certain point, at which point it becomes somewhat unattractive, so stop getting them," complained Morrigan, who flicked Aedan in the back of the head, then handed him his shirt.

"Sorry," laughed Aedan as he put his shirt back on. He groaned whilst one of his arms stretched in the wrong way, aggravating one of his injuries from fighting with Branka. "The damn thing still hurts," he muttered. Morrigan chided him and helped him pull the shirt over his head. "Your injuries seem to be healing fine, save for that one with your arm. Just stretch it every once in awhile."

"Morrigan, I need to talk to you about someth-"

"I have something for you," blurted out the witch. She knew that she was interuppting him, but she hated the anxious feeling in her chest, waiting for the right moment to give her gift. It was best she get it over with now, lest she think about it anymore. She kept going over his reaction in her head, even though she knew speculating was pointless.

"Not more of that godawful medicinal herbs, I hate those-"

"It is not that." The witch fumbled around in her belongings and stretched her hand out in front of Aedan. In the palm of her hand lay a simple ring of rosewood.

"That's...sweet," smiled Aedan as he picked it up. He brushed the smooth wood with his fingers and slid the ring down his left ring finger.

"Not sweet, practical. Tis not a sentimental thing, tis something of necessity. It has come to my attention that you sometimes tend to wander off and find yourself in trouble."

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of dog," joked Aedan.

Morrigan groaned at Aedan's quip and continued on."This ring was given to me by Flemeth and imbued with magic to allow for her to track me. I have modified to the magic to work instead on you instead. It should allow me to sense when you are in trouble and where you are."

"Interesting," mused Aedan. He fiddled with the ring on the finger. For some reason, he found it calming to twist it about it. "So...if you can sense me through this, can I sense you?"

Morrigan paused, and then answered, "I did not think of it like that, but I suppose that it could work both ways."

Aedan took one final look at the ring upon his finger and smiled."I appreciate the gift, Morrigan. It's very nice."

"Tis not meant to be sentimental," growled Morrigan again, right after which Aedan laughed. The man wrapped his arm around her shoulder and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"That's all I get?" mumbled Morrigan, leaning her head against Aedan's neck. The man's heart skipped a beat as he leaned in to kiss Morrigan's on the lips. His hand cupped her porcelain neck as he pulled her closer. He could feel her hot, quickening breath between her kisses. Aedan grabbed her by the waist, pulled her close to his own body, then pushed himself down atop of her. As she wrapped her arms around Aedan's neck, Morrigan whispered seductively in Aedan's ear."I think we can probably save what you were going to talk about for later. Much later."

Aedan's heart dropped as he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Morrigan expectantly grinded her hips against Aedan's, but was surprised to find that Aedan was not responding. "Is...something wrong?" she panted.

Pushing himself off of Morrigan, Aedan groaned and whispered, "I was going to talk to you about your mother."

"Ah," said Morrigan, before falling silent. "Nothing kills the mood better than matricide," she muttered under her breath. The woman sighed as she did her hair up again. "Sorry I brought that up."

"It's fine. We need to talk about it anyways." Aedan rubbed the back of his head and awkwardly waited for the lower half of his body to calm down. After a minute of silence, Aedan finally said, "We've been heading south, and we'll arrive outside the Wilds tomorrow. If I remember right, it's only a few hours from to your mother's hut from there if we take the shortest path.

* * *

><p>Truth be told, ever since his argument with Alistair and the others, things had not quite been the same. Certainly, it was not as though they were still mad at him. Even they had to understand the decision he made, but things were different now. He and Alistair used to joke all the time. Now it felt as though they were simply business partners- nothing more. Alistair sat across from Aedan, simply sipping his soup in silence. After the templar had finished his meal, he piled the plate onto the designated dish towel and got up to leave.<p>

"I need to talk to the entire group about something. Stay." Aedan turned to the rest and addressed them: "All of you."

"Is this about our current path south? We're not going back to Ostagar, are we? The deep south of Ferelden is crawling with darkspawn," stated Zevran.

Wringing his hands, Aedan took a moment to consider how best to phrase what he was about to say. However, there was no better way to ease them into the business of Flemeth, so he figured he might as well just say it outright. "We're going to kill Morrigan's mother, Flemeth. She plans to possess Morrigan's body after the Blight is over. If we're to keep this from happening, we need to eliminate Flemeth. Wynne and Morrigan will need to stay behind, seeing as how they are both female mages."

Everyone paused and contemplated in silence. Aedan shifted a bit in his seat. The man was anxious to hear the response of the others; hopefully it would not take long for them to get ready. He wanted to be off as soon as possible.

"How'd you figure this out?" asked Alistair, understandably a little

"Morrigan translated one of her mother's grimoires we found in the Tower of Magi," replied Aedan.

"So Morrigan told you," said Alistair. He frowned, leaned forward on his knees, and asked sincerely, "Aedan, how do we know Morrigan isn't just...getting her mother out of the way?"

"What?" stated Aedan, his face scrunching in disbelief.

"For one, she's an apostate, and a very dangerous one at that," said Leliana,"We don't even know why she's travelling with us."

"To stop the blight?," said Aedan, his voice raising, "To save this country from being overrun?"

"We're just saying," said Leliana, avoiding Aedan's gaze, "maybe you're not the best one to judge this situation, since you two are...intimate."

Aedan gave an exasperated scowl. "This and that are two different things. I don't let what we do at night interfere with my work in the day."

"That's not realistic," said Wynne, "Of course she's going to have some influence over you, some sort of pull."

"Are you being serious right now?" Aedan looked at each and everyone of his companions. Each one of them had a similar expression of distrust on their face, as though Morrigan's lie were obvious. Did they truly not believe him?

Only Oghren lacked the disbelief of the others, and raised his eyebrows at the rest. "I don't know too much about this Morrigan, but hey, I doubt she's just going to have us kill some old woman on a whim in the middle of a Blight unless it's important. Let's get it over with and kill the bitch," shrugged Oghren.

"Warden, we have to consider this carefully. Flemeth is a powerful witch who possibly has been around for centuries. Even if Morrigan's telling the truth, is it really wise to go rushing in to kill her mother? Our goal is the Archdemon. You are a soldier first. Put aside your personal feelings and continue on with your job properly, Warden," stated Sten, looking at Aedan expectantly.

Aedan grimaced. This is who he was now, right? The Warden. None of the others referred to Alistair as "warden", and it wasn't out of disrespect. Aedan had thrown himself into this job, from leadership on the battlefield, managing the base in Soldier's Keep, and making all the important decisions. It had been easier to throw himself into the job. After all, everything that he had left behind had burned to nothing. This job was his life now.

Of course, the job required cynical thinking at times. The warden had considered that Morrigan might be lying. After all, her early advances had still gone unexplained. Even if she wasn't lying, the battle with Flemeth was an unknown; they had no idea the power the woman possessed. For all they knew, the witch could kill them all with a wave of her hand. They needed to stay alive until the Archdemon.

Aedan had seen the devastation of the Blight as they had passed through southern Fereldan. Mangled, half-eaten corpses strewn the corrupted lands. Crows circled the entirety of the skies as the chants and shrieks of darkspawn filled the air. At least in war, there was the possibility of mercy, but Aedan had seen what the darkspawn had done in the Deep Roads. A civilization obliterated. Ferelden, if not united, stood no chance.

So it all fell on Aedan's shoulders. None of Ferelden's leaders had shown they would be able to coordinate the country against the Blight. Aedan needed to be better them all: better than Zathrian, better than Branka, better than Bhelen, better than Cailan, and most of all better than Loghain.

Would killing Flemeth make him a better leader than the others?

The Warden, thought Aedan, would stay. The Warden would wait until after the Blight to take care of this, after all, Flemeth would not dare to take a valuable member of his team before the final battle. The Warden would appropriately distance himself from Morrigan and figure out what her plan was. The Warden would put aside personal feelings and do what needed to be done, and ignore all other distractions. Had he not already sacrificed hundreds? Had he not already failed to save even more? What more was one life?

But even with all that the Warden's rationalizations, Aedan still felt a twinge in his chest. He didn't want to lose her.

Aedan Cousland instead spoke: "Listen here. Regardless of my relationship with her, regardless of what you might think of her, I know this. Morrigan has time after time fought by our side. She's protected us from man and monster alike. She's mended our worst wounds. No doubt she has saved each and everyone of us in some way. You owe that to her."

"And if anyone of you came to me with similar request, I wouldn't ask questions, because each and everyone of you have fought with and defended me. So if you won't do it for her, at the very least, do it for me."

Aedan clenched his fist and slammed it down against his chest as he quietly seethed,"I am your leader. I would do anything for you. I would fight for you. I would die for you." Aedan gritted his teeth as he exhaled slowly, "And I would kill for you."

His warm breath lingered in the chilled air. As the breath faded, only silence remained amongst his companions as they considered his words. Aedan heard a low rumble: Shale stomped over slowly in the general direction of south. Alistair wrung his hands, made a sour face, and finally picked up his sword. The rest began to follow one by one, until finally all his companions had armed themselves. Aedan nodded silently and began to make his own preparations- arming himself with everything he had: sword, bombs, healing potions, daggers, and more.

After he had finished, Aedan walked over to Morrigan's tent area. The witch sat by her fire reading one of her books. Only her back faced Aedan. Despite Aedan standing behind her, the witch refused to look up.

"Not even going to say goodbye to me?" asked Aedan, watching her hair sway in the wind. The witch shivered in place as a strong breeze blew past them.

"You'll just be gone for a few hours. I'm making soup tonight. Don't take too long or it'll go cold," said Morrigan, not turning around to show her face.

Aedan smiled and whispered, "Looking forward to it." With that, Aedan turned around and joined his comrades at the edge of the forest. The twisted trees and swamp-like lands greeted them as they began to trek inward. It had been a long time since he had entered these woods. He remembered the first time he had navigated through the vast forests and swamps of this area. It had been almost a year since then. It seemed much longer though.

As they walked through the swamps, Aedan turned towards Shale and said, "Thank you."

"For what?" replied the golem.

"For being the first to come. I didn't think you liked me that much."

"To be quite honest, I don't," stated the golem rather distastefully. Aedan made a puzzled expression as the golem explained. "It eats too loudly. It tells jokes that fall flat. It's always getting in other's business when it has no reason to do so. It fornicates with the witch far too often and loudly, often to the discomfort of others. It also-"

"I get it, Shale," said Aedan, holding up his hand and rubbing his eyes between his fingers. "I'll leave you alone."

"But it is the first person to respect me," continued Shale, "not as a golem, but as a living being. So similarly, I shall respect it. If it-"

The golem paused, and then made a strange noise similar to clearing her throat. Technically Shale no longer had any such throat to to clear, but perhaps it was out of instinct from memories long ago.

"If you asked," she stated, "I would follow you anywhere."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Whew...sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Parts of it gave me a hard time, but I tried the best I could. I'd estimate about two-three more chapters in this last arc.

Thoughts on this particular chapter...definitely a turning point for Aedan, going from reluctant to kill at the beginning of the story, to willingly admitting that he'd kill for his comrades without question. When I stared writing this story, this was one of the moments that I knew was going to happen (just didn't think it'd take me so long to get him there).

SgtGinger: Glad you liked the bit with Caridin. Originally I planned for Mikhail Dryden to reforge the sword much much later in the story, but I felt as though it was more appropriate for Aedan to get it reforged now. As for the change in canon, I know it's a little bit of a stretch, but I tried my best to estimate what exactly the losses were. The wiki states that Branka took about 500 members of her house with her, and considering that Harrowmont's house is far older and a noble, I'd assume they have more people. That being said, I could be completely wrong, but in the context of the story I wanted Aedan to make a extremely hard decision.

Urazz: I choose Bhelen most of the time on all my playthroughs as well. Like you said, more lives in the long run. Definitely agree that Bhelen with an Anvil would be terrible.

borismortys: Glad it got you thinking; I always wanted the consequences to choosing Bhelen to be more apparent then what they tell you in the epilogue, and the DA2 sidequest really gives you a glimpse at what really happens.

BloodBanker69: Glad to have another reader! Don't feel like you have to review every single chapter if it's too much work- just happy to know you enjoy the story.


	46. Desperation

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 46: Desperation_

When Aedan made a mistake, his father was not a man to punish, but to teach. Even though the patriarch of the Cousland family believed that Aedan had been irresponsible as of late, Bryce believed caging his son would only breed resentment, not reflection. After a week of recuperating, his parents had given Aedan some slack and allowed him to go out during the day. To be considerate, Aedan kept his walks to half hour lengths. Aedan waddled through the market with a slight limp.

For the past few days, Aedan had gone outside at noon, walked the exact same path for a half hour, then returned into the mansion. If Adair was still out there, he had to have noticed this pattern by now. Still, Aedan had not seen Adair for a week, and wondered where the man had gone off.

As if right on queue, Aedan saw a familiar face dart backwards behind him. From amidst the crowds of merchants and nobles, a hooded figure quickly pulled him aside."Was wondering when you'd show up again," muttered Aedan. Adair took a quick look around the corner of the alleyway. With all the people in the market, the chances of Adair being singled out by the guards was low. The grizzled man grunted,"Let's make this quick."

Adair sprinted silently down the abandoned hallway. Aedan groaned and motioned for him to slow down. "My ankle's sprained because of you, asshole."

"You're the one who came up with the idea of getting tortured- don't go complaining to me."

Aedan rolled his eyes and tried to keep up with the older warrior. Adair turned the corner several times until they reached the slums. Aedan had never found a reason to come down to the slums of Denerim usually. Clotheslines hung across the span of buildings from apartment window to apartment window. Dirty, ragged clothing fluttered in the wind and dripped cloudy water as they dried. Garbage lined the unpaved streets. Aedan felt out of place in his nice shirt and clean pants. The young noble tried his best to stay in the shadows and avoid glances from the slum dwellers. Adair pulled open a nearby door and beckoned Aedan inside.

"My hideout," said Adair, giving a quick wave at everything in the room before heading to his knapsack. Adair began stuffing everything he could fit into his bag: bombs, maps, and more. For some reason, it seemed as though the older warrior was in some sort of rush. Aedan surveyed the decrepit old room around him. Various maps lined the walls, with strings of yarn connecting pins on the maps. The place was filled to the brim with weapons and explosives. Aedan recognized some of the bombs that Adair had used in the Alienage: he wondered how the authorities hadn't found this place with such highly dangerous qunari explosives.

"How do you throw these damn things?" asked Aedan. He picked up one of the round vials and gently tossed it in his hands. "Back at the Bann's mansion a few months ago, I made some decent throws at his soldiers with the alcohol bottles, but I missed my mark on quite a few."

"Thought you were more of a sword and shield person," stated Adair.

"Doesn't mean I can't carry a couple of these around with me," replied Aedan.

Adair rolled his eyes."See, your problem is that you're handling the damn thing like a sword, when throwing is a more delicate art. You need a minimal amount of force to break these things. Your desire is accuracy."The veteran interrupted his packing to go into his throwing position, and beckoned at Aedan to do the same. The young noble followed suit and followed Adair's instructions.

"Start out with your weight on your back right foot. Raise your arm up in a L shape. Hips should slightly bent to the you throw, you should feel the torque as you rotate your entire body, starting from your legs, driving with your hip rotation, and finally. It's one fluid movement, all towards directing the path of the bomb straight at your target. As you release, don't forget to follow through. That's the general gist of it." Adair simulated his throw, and quickly observed Aedan as he did the same. After a quick glance at Aedan's form, Adair resumed his packing in a hurry.

"What's the hurry?" asked Aedan as Adair continued to arm himself up.

"There's one last job for each of need to go the village of Westholme. Find where the bastard is and get him to relocate and get under protection." Adair strapped himself into his dark leather armor, patted himself down once, and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"You're not coming?" asked Aedan, even though Adair's behavior had already suggested it.

"This is where we part ways. There are people who hired me...I intend to track them down. They've sent the Orlesians after me and you, so they'll know by now I'm still alive and betrayed them. Best case, I find them and kill them"

Aedan paused before asking,"And in the worst case?"

The veteran stared at him with cold eyes."I die, and they believe that the bastard's location died with me."

"So what?," asked Aedan, a hint of confusion in his voice, "You're just going to get yourself killed?"

A tired look in his eyes, Adair spoke slowly and quietly in a manner unbefitting his brash exterior:"I... have lived too long, Aedan. I have done many things I'm not proud of. If this is my end, then I'm not going to say I don't want it. It is a good end, for a good cause."

As Adair made his way to the door, he stopped midstep and turned around back to Aedan."A word of advice," he said,"Do not be so eager to be a hero...to fight villains and defend innocents. While people like Teharel and I carry heavy sins, you don't. You have a family and people who love you. I...never had that. The thing that kept me going when I was working with Teharel and the others, the thing that allowed me to do all those terrible things, was the fact that perhaps I was making a world where people like you could live in peace and enjoy their lives."

With deep regret in his eyes, Adair stared down at the floor and said,"If you were to grant a dead man's final request, here it is: finish this business in Westholme, and then stop and enjoy the rest of your life."

Aedan and Adair stood there in silence, with Adair standing in the open doorway. After some time, Aedan managed to get out,"Then I guess this is-."

His final word trailed off his word 'goodbye' was quite foreign to Aedan. He was still young; he had never yet said goodbye for good. Each person he saw in his life would always be there the next day. Slowly that would change though. His parents would get older and eventually die of old age, as would the rest of his family. And even though Aedan didn't like to think about it, Teharel had only a few months left. Even though the man before him was partially responsible for it, Aedan felt torn. This man was trying to do good. Adair had tripped. Adair had fallen. But he was trying.

Aedan clenched his fist gently and nodded once at Adair in silence. The grizzled old veteran did the same as well, before shutting the door.

* * *

><p>Morrigan bit her lip.<p>

Of all the people she had to be stuck alone with, it was Wynne. Morrigan scowled as sat across from the other mage. At least with Alistair, you could make enough jokes at the expense of his pride and the templar would slink away. Leliana would simply pout and stay silent.

For safety's sake, Aedan and the others had left Wynne behind; even though Flemeth had been grooming Morrigan to be her next vessel, the possibility existed that Flemeth might jump to Wynne if the situation got too dire. Then the moral conundrum of the day would no longer be killing an old woman, and instead whether or not killing an old woman who was also their comrade.

The campfire separated the two as Wynne thumbed through a book. The old woman had a habit of licking the tip of her thumb then turning the page; no doubt since all the natural oils in her skin had dried up. Morrigan gagged and dreaded the possibility she might become like that.

"So, I noticed you and Aedan have been quite close as of late," said Wynne, finally breaking the silence. Morrigan contemplated simply not responding. To enter into a conversation with Wynne meant bothersome preaching from a woman she had little respect for.

Still, the topic of her and Aedan piqued Morrigan's interest. The other companions had expressed nothing but disgust or awkwardness at their arrangement. Perhaps the shackled Circle mage had some other opinion.

"Have we not been berated enough about this," drawled Morrigan in response, "Yes, we are grown adults having sex. How interesting."

Wynne smirked. "Not what I meant." The elderly mage smiled like a devious cat and observed Morrigan intensely. Morrigan tried her best to keep on a straight face. She narrowed her eyes and glared. She didn't like where this conversation was going. Wynne's happiness did not warrant a cause for celebration for Morrigan.

"I see the way you look at him when he's not with you. The way you smile when he's not looking," declared Wynne, tilting her head to the side with the smuggest grin. Morrigan scowled and suppressed the urge to sear the other mage. Morrigan shot back,"You must be going senile, old hag."

Despite Morrigan's vitriolic words, Wynne still maintained that infuriating smirk. "There's only so many times you can shoot your sharp words before we get used to them."

Ignoring Wynne's previous comment, Morrigan said,"Tis not the frilly little love you people dream of. Tis the respect of equals. We are both powerful, independent individuals. Is there nothing wrong with indulging in carnal pleasure?" said Morrigan, crossing her arms. Such words often deterred the likes of the dull-witted templar and the frivolous sister. No doubt the Circle mage would give up at this point.

Wynne's wrinkled smile twisted into one far more sinister."And what, may I ask, do the stolen kisses when nobody's looking have to do with the respect of equals?"

An uncontrollable cough shot out of Morrigan's throat. Startled, the witch turned her face away and muttered, "I am simply...confirming that he is more equal to me than any of you. Now enough old woman, leave me be."

That ended the conversation for awhile. The witch bit her lip. Morrigan tried her best not to think upon Wynne's comments or Aedan.

After awhile, Wynne said from behind her book,"He's going to be fine."

"I know that- why do you keep insisting on telling me that?"

"You always bit your lip and make that same expression whenever you're worried about him."

The witch blinked and was taken aback."I did not expect such an old woman to be so shrewd," she muttered.

"Despite what you may think," said Wynne, "I did not always enjoy the Tower. I got rather good at poker to pass the time, and I know a tell when I see one." The elder mage sighed and tried her best to make a reassuring smile. As much as Wynne did not trust Morrigan, at the very least she could tell Morrigan cared about Aedan, and that was enough to make her want to comfort Morrigan.

"I worry about him too, Morrigan."

"Who wouldn't, based on all the wounds he drags back in?"

"I am not so worried about that...it's his state of mind that I'm worried about. He's carrying too many things by himself; too many worries, too many regrets, too many responsibilities. If he keeps up like this, then there will come a time when the straw breaks the camel's back." The elder mage grimaced for a brief second, thinking of the possibilities. Instead of pondering on it, Wynne returned to her book and nervously tapped the book spine.

Morrigan glanced at the position of the sun. One more hour. Aedan would be back within the hour. The task shouldn't have taken much time.

_Only one more hour of this anxiety...this tightness in my chest...this overwhelming worry._

Morrigan bit her lip.

* * *

><p>Aedan pushed his way past the sickly brown foliage of the swamp to reveal a familiar sight: Flemeth's hut. Finally, Aedan was back at the beginning. Certainly, the day they had set off from Flemeth's hut had not been the catalyst for him becoming a warden. If anything, the true beginning was that fiery day in Highever. Yet ever since the day he, Alistair, and Morrigan had set off from the hut, Aedan had carried the responsibility of the Blight.<p>

The hut looked the same as almost a year ago: decrepit, covered in moss, and barely standing. Despite it's ancient looks, Aedan suspected the building had stood for awhile. No doubt Flemeth kept the exterior shabby to throw off any possible suspicion. As Aedan surveyed the area, he noticed waiting outside the door, arms behind her back and with that same sinister smile, was Flemeth. The warden grimaced and signaled to the rest to come out of the bushes. Aedan had hoped to ambush the witch, but that had been too much to hope for.

The warden removed his helm whilst he strode forward."Hey," greeted Aedan with his helmet tucked between the crook of his elbow. Despite Flemeth being an abomination, a murderer, and a threat to Morrigan's life, Aedan felt a certain ease when greeting her. She took everything seriously, and at the same time did not. At the very least, the two shared a sense of humor. Aedan wondered if sharing a sense of humor with a sinister abomination reflected poorly on him..

"I did not expect to see you again, at the very least not until the blight is over. Slacking off on the job are we, tsk tsk," chided Flemeth jokingly. She bobbed her head from side to side, playing the senile old woman.

"Ah well, just have something I have to take care of quick," said Aedan, smiling back at her. The two stared at each other with warm smiles and ice cold glares. Finally Flemeth spat out, "So little Morrigan finally found someone to dance to her tune." Something invisible pulsated once behind Flemeth. The air constricted behind her and a familiar shiver ran through Aedan's bones.

"Tell me..do you know why I sent her with you? Do you know why she still remains with you?" asked Flemeth.

"Because the Blight will kill her and you."

"Wrong!" cackled Flemeth, "I could simply flee. I have lived through countless wars and even Blights, and I did not perish. Guess again."

Aedan narrowed his eyes."It's easier for you to take over an accomplished mage," he suggested. Flemeth laughed again in his face. "You are certainly not wrong about that fact, but that was never in my mind. Why risk my soon to be vessel fighting darkspawn? Unless something far more important took precedence?"

Flemeth smiled knowingly. A chill creeped down Aedan's spine."Of course she hasn't told you- like mother, like daughter," slithered the aging witch, "We are the keeper of the dark secrets, preservers of the old traditions. Men like you could never understand my true purpose, my grand plan." Flemeth outstretched her arms and looked into the vast sky. Her smile twisted and contorted. Aedan regarded Flemeth in silence.

"Will you answer me one question...are you planning on taking her body?" he stated coldly.

"Indeed," replied Flemeth, bemused by Aedan's serious expression and tone.

Aedan put his hand on his sword hilt."Then that's all I need to know."

"You don't need to kill me you know. You still want her around? Fine. Take my grimoire and give it to her. Tell her I am dead."

"I wouldn't do that to Morrigan."

Flemeth smiled once last time and sighed,"I really did like you. Such a pity."Aedan saw Flemeth engulfed by a familiar flash of light, the same which engulfed Morrigan whenever she shapeshifted. Morrigan had mentioned that she needed to study the creature in-depth to shapeshift into it. Aedan wracked his brain for the most dangerous creature that lay within the Wilds. Gigantic spider? Darkspawn?

He had barely a second to think before a hot blaze of energy blew him and the others onto their backs. The brilliant light temporarily dazed all of them, even Shale. Aedan's mind reeled; it seemed that unlike Morrigan's transformation, Flemeth's had more of a kick to it. Aedan looked towards where Flemeth had once been. Scaly wings had sprouted into the sky from a behemoth of a body. The creature's scarlet armored scales reflected the hazy sun of the Wild's. Aedan could feel the air rumble as Flemeth's gigantic tail swung back and forth. Pure smoldering fire gathered at the base of her fang filled mouth.

It took Aedan a second to process the monstrosity in front of him. Straight from the stories from his childhood, roaring with all her might, stood a dragon. Unlike his childhood, Aedan held no wonder for the deadly beast, but instead his heart pounded against his chest. His body trembled in fear.

"BEHIND ME, NOW!" screamed Aedan with all his might as the fireball left Flemeth's mouth. Aedan raised his shield in front of him. The fire blasted against the front of his shield, diverting the blast from a cone shaped area. The skin beneath his gauntlets felt like bubbling from the scalding heat. Although Morrigan had warded his shield to protect from elemental magic, it did not protect from heat. Aedan gritted his teeth through the intense heat running through his left hand's gauntlet- it felt like his skin was bubbling from the heat.

Despite the searing pain from his quivering left hand, Aedan clenched his shield and continued to hold it up. As the fire cleared, Aedan could smell the sickening burnt smell of his own skin. He struggled to even clasp his shield. His hand felt raw and wet. Every part of his body begged him to drop the shield. Still Aedan held it up in front of him; the rest of his companions save Alistair had no such magical wards. With a wave of his hand, Aedan silently signaled Alistair to circled round back Flemeth with several others. While they flanked Flemeth, Aedan charged along with Shale and Oghren straight at Flemeth. Shale pounded her both her fists straight into Flemeth's face. Aedan and Oghren burst from behind the golem and unleashed a barrage of devastating blows.

Aedan prayed that Flemeth would keep her attention on him so the other's could do their work. Zevran was crawling under the belly of the beast to strap vials of frost bombs; once Flemeth noticed what he was doing, Zevran would no longer have such an option, so the plan was to strap everything at once, then shatter all the vials in one go. Before Zevran could finish his task however, Flemeth merely soared up into the air and circled around the group, annoyed by the scratches dealt to her.

"What now?" panted Alistair, exhausted from dodging the legs and tail of Flemeth.

"I don't know! I've never killed a goddamn dragon, and I can't fly!" Aedan's eyes followed Flemeth's circling form as he racked his mind for a strategy. Only Leliana could attack Flemeth now, and as accurate as the bard was, her arrows merely bounced off the dragon's scales.

A dark realization dawned on Aedan, as he looked at his group who was clustered in one single area. Just as his mouth opened to command them to scatter, Flemeth's wings propelled her downwards in a single flap. Her body slammed into the ground like a gigantic ballista bolt. Rubble and dirt flew everywhere as several of his teammates flew several feet. Flemeth raised her head and shrieked into the sky. Her roar rattled Aedan's head, and the Warden stumbled as he got back up.

Aedan and Sten lept at Flemeth's legs and hacked at her soft spots. Despite the metallic look of the dragon scales, enough blunt force seemed to break them. Shattered scales rained down as the melee members of Aedan's group all rushed at Flemeth. In the fervor of battle, Flemeth uprooted a nearby boulder with her tail and flung it straight at Leliana. Sten, the closest, reacted quickly enough to see the trajectory of the boulder. The qunari barreled into Leliana and knocked her clear, however Sten himself was not as lucky. The boulder collided with his body and pinned him beneath it. The qunari roared in agony and effort as he tried to push the gigantic rock off of him. Shale attempted to rush over to him, but Flemeth saw what the golem was trying to do, and took off into the air. It circled around, then rammed straight into the golem, sending it flying into the murky swamp nearby. Shale struggled beneath the noxious, thick swamp water as her own titanic weight dragged her down towards the bottom of the lake.

The dragon slammed down before her melee attackers, who barely managed to get out of her path. With a quick swipe, Flemeth batted aside Oghren and Zevran. Her neck snapped outwards at Alistair, who found himself hanging upside down by his leg. He screamed as Flemeth's teeth dug into his calf. Flemeth flung him into the direction of the Wilds, but not before releasing her grip on his leg.

_She's playing with us. She's not even trying to kill us,_ thought Aedan. Flemeth could have easily snapped off Alistair's leg. No doubt she could have killed him with a direct impact from the air by now.

"Why do you persist? You know you cannot win. Half of your team is out of commission. You're only human. Come now,' cooed Flemeth. The dragon's nose puffed out a pretentious cloud of smoke as it pridefully stood over Aedan. With all the strength he could muster, Aedan smashed his shield against Flemeth's nose and struck at her mouth. Thick, dark, scarlet dragon blood oozed from the scratch he left. Despite all the force Aedan put into the blow, the dragon merely growled and swatted at Aedan. The Warden raised his shield to block the blow. He dug his feet deep into the dirt as he willed his legs to push forward against Flemeth's might blow. As her claw collide with him, Aedan felt his footing slip, and Aedan's torso absorbed the brunt of the blow. His ribs made a sickening crunch as Aedan flew through the air and tumbled against the ground.

Aedan struggled to pull himself back up, but slipped in the mud. His innards throbbed in pain whilst the warden still reeled. Flemeth cackled at Aedan's futile struggle to simply get up. _Do you think yourself some sort of hero? Saving the damsel in distress like some white shining knight?_ sneered Flemeth through her magic. _Go back to your Grey Warden duties. Is that not what you are fighting for?_

Perhaps it was the blood loss, or perhaps the head trauma, but despite the searing pain from his burnt hands, despite his broken ribs, one thing was very clear in his mind. Even though she was miles away, Aedan could still see the smile that Morrigan tried so hard to hide. For that, Aedan would pay any price to see her one more time.

Aedan fumbled for several of the bombs he had brought, then threw them down to the ground. Smoke billowed out from all of the containers. "Poison? Do you think this will really affect me?" cackled Flemeth's voice in their minds. The dragon roared in delight and slammed her claws into the ground. The dirt rumbled and the trees shook from the sheer force. Aedan stood steadfast and stared straight at the large, unforgiving dragon before him. Aedan pulled out Avernus's vial and snapped the cork right off. With a single swig Aedan gulped down the entirety of the mixture."Don't make me laugh, Flemeth," growled Aedan as he wiped the side of his mouth with his bloodied armor. Aedan's figure stumbled and writhed about in the smoke, struggling with something.

"I'm not here because I have to be," seethed Aedan though the immense pain that had erupted throughout his body, "I'm not here because I should be. I'm not here because I need to be". Every part of him; his skin, his veins, his organs, felt like they were being ripped apart then sewn back together. He could feel the taint within his blood erupt with heat as it poured through every vestige of his body. As his tainted blood surged through his body and the air, Aedan did not think of the countless lives in danger of the Blight. He did not think of all the people who he'd lost. He did not think of all those who had wronged him and deserved justice. For once, his mind was clear. His grip did not waver. Unburdened by the thoughts of past and future, Aedan for the first time in his life felt free. For once, what he was doing wasn't for the sake of a nation, nor was it for the sake of the greater good. For once, he was doing something he desired for himself.

"I'm here because I want to be. And right now…"

A metallic smell filled the air. A faint mist of wet blood rushed out from within the smoke and subtly tinted the surrounding air red. Blood dribbled down the cracks in Aedan's armor as the man bled profusely from his wounds. His helm clattered to the side. Aedan gritted his teeth and smiled as he laughed, "I just really...really...want to kill you."

Aedan lurched forward. The wind howled against his ears as he throttled towards Flemeth. His body felt heavier, yet burned with a unholy fire within, like a hot lump of iron had lodged itself in his bones. He could feel the heat travel through his muscles as he stamped his feet against the ground. The heat traveled through his thighs, then down his calves, then ended at his feet, where he exploded off the ground.

Aedan had often times felt like time had slowed for him in desperate situations. As Flemeth's dragon claws smashed again and again into the ground, Aedan felt no such things here. Instead he was filled with a frantic, savage energy as he weaved between Flemeth's blows, leaving dents in the mud as he sprinted. All he could do was barely react to her blows, but it seems he gained just enough speed and strength to avoid them. The tip of her claw grazed past his nose as he lurched backwards.

Flemeth's tail came from behind. Aedan could feel the taint burning within his arms and hands as the tail rushed at him. The taint beckoned his arms forward. His shield slammed against Flemeth's tail and stopped it in it's path. Flemeth growled and swept at Aedan with her enormous claws. Once again, Aedan mustered all his strength as the claws collided with his shield. Aedan could feel the taint pulsating inside his blood and willing all his strength into his muscles. With a single heave, Aedan threw her tail backwards. The act threw Flemeth off balance, and the dragon had stumbled backwards before regaining her footing.

"He knocked her backwards," breathed Alistair in disbelief. Despite the throbbing pain in his leg, the templar heaved himself off the ground and leaned against his sword. At the very least, he would not let Aedan do all the work.

Flemeth swept the ground with her claws in a frenzy even faster than before. Aedan dodged and weaved through storm of blows. His sword parried against the gargantuan claws.

_Haha! Interesting interesting interesting!_ cackled Flemeth's voice throughout the area. _To think the taint could be harnessed in such a way. My goodness- I forget there are other talented mages out there besides me. This is the most fun I've had in centuries, Warden!_

"Glad I could help," grunted Aedan, who spun his entire body into a blow against Flemeth's front claw. The sword drove straight into her bone. Flemeth screamed in agony. Flame burst from her nostrils involuntarily. In her moment of distraction, Aedan drove his sword again and again into her claw. Each blow, fueled by the burning taint in his body, sliced deeper and deeper. Throwing his entire body into one last strike, Aedan cleaved straight through the bone. Flemeth let loose a bloodcurdling wail that shook the forest. Her claw hung only by strips of skin from her arm.

With a final roar of anger, Flemeth's other claw smashed down onto Aedan and pinned him down. Even whilst pinned down, however, Aedan's arms still pushed against the crushing force Flemeth exerted upon. Sweat dripped down his brow; if he wavered in his strength for even second, Flemeth's claw would crush every bone in his body.

_Enough! You had your chance, Warden,_ seethed Flemeth.

Aedan chuckled and sputtered through his pain, "In the end, you really are Morrigan's mother- both are you so distracted by shiny little baubles, that sometimes you don't see the knock out punch coming."

At that moment, Shale, covered in swamp moss and dripping wet, slammed her glowing crystalline fist into Flemeth's jaw. The dragon stumbled backwards. Shattered jaw bone pierced out of her scaly skin. Flemeth screamed in fury with her disfigured jaw. Wind burst forth from beneath her as her wings desperately took her aloft.

Aedan knew what he had to do. He picked up a sizeable rock in his hand and squinted his eyes as he focused on Flemeth's wings. His eyes spotted the mass of frost bombs that Zevran had planted. Aedan shifted his weight onto his back right foot. His arm raised up in a L shape. His hips slightly bent to the Aedan threw, he felt the torque as he rotated his entire body, starting from his legs, driving with his hip rotation, and finally up into his arm. In one fluid movement, given force by the taint in his blood, the rock arced up into the sky towards Flemeth. Aedan stumbled over his follow-through, feeling a little light headed. His warm blood soaked the insides of his armor.

The rock collided with the mass of bombs Zevran had planted near the wings; jagged icicles burst forth from the explosion of chemicals and shattered glass. They pierced through the base of Flemeth's wings. The dragon fell from the sky and tumbled to the ground. Moaning in agony, Flemeth tried in desperation to fly away, but Oghren and Sten, despite their heavy wounds, lunged at what remained of her wings and cleaved their blades into her.

In one last act of desperation, Flemeth began to glow with that familiar shapeshifting radiance.

Alistair, who had dragged himself back onto the battlefield, gritted his teeth."Like hell you do," seethed Alistair, who clapped his hands together and chanted frantic quiet verse beneath his breath. What seemed like a wave of barely visible heat burst forth from Alistair, followed by a brief flash of blue light. As soon as it hit Flemeth, the light vanished from her and prevented further shapeshifting. Her head flailed as fire spewed in all directions.

With a roar, Aedan lept onto the back of Flemeth's long spiked neck right near her head. Aedan clamped onto the flailing neck with all his strength with one arm. With the other, he The jagged teeth of Aedan's sword dug into the front of Flemeth's neck. Aedan pulled against the mass of sinew and dragon scales. Blood spewed forth from Flemeth's neck. The bleeding slowed her flailing as her head thudded against the swamp mud. Aedan rolled off of Flemeth's neck. His chest heaved from exhaustion. He stumbled several steps as he standing up straight. The blood loss was starting to hit him. It was strange that he was bleeding so much, and from such old wounds.

Despite his condition, Aedan dragged his tired legs until he stood directly over the head of Flemeth. Her eyes flitted towards him and stared at him with bemusement. If Aedan could imagine the human Flemeth's face, he thought she might still be wearing that unknowable, sinister smile.

The warden clenched his sword between his two hands with the tip facing downwards. In a single thrust, he drove his word deep into the head of Flemeth. Scarlet blood sprayed out and against Aedans face. Aedan's sword clattered to the ground as he felt his body go numb.

"Can someone get into the hut and find Flemeth's grimoire?" he mumbled. Everything was spinning. Flemeth's blood dripped down onto his eyes and tinted his vision half red. He could see the blurry figures of Alistair and Leliana grab at him and attempt to steady him. Aedan felt his legs collapse. He crashed into the ground, and for the first time realized how much blood had collected in his armor, right before his vision went dark.

* * *

><p>Aedan was in pain. He was fading. Morrigan could tell this much from the ring as she paced back and forth. She kept looking every few seconds to the entrance of Wilds in the hopes he'd simply be walking back with a limp. Perhaps the ring was wrong. Perhaps it was her mother's last trick upon her.<p>

Shale smashed through the trees with regards to the environment. Morrigan squinted her eyes and saw that she was carrying what looked to be a bloodied corps-

Her heart dropped.

"Morrigan, Wynne, Aedan needs healing!" screamed Alistair as Shale carried over Aedan's limp body. Morrigan could barely make out the templar's words as her heart throbbed against her chest and head. They laid him out on the grass, with both Alistair's and Shale's hands slick with Aedan's blood. The panicking Morrigan squeezed Aedan's hand for a pulse. The blood in his veins still flowed, and Morrigan could make out a faint heartbeat. "You need to stay awake, Aedan! Wake up!" Morrigan screamed with every fiber in her body, "GET UP!"

Aedan's finger weakly tightened around Morrigan's. Blood trickled out of where Branka had stabbed him in the hand weeks ago.

_Why is he bleeding from his scar?_

Both Wynne and Morrigan's hands hovered over Aedan as they desperately tried to mend his wounds. Morrigan's heart pounded desperately against her chest. Her head spun as she willed every inkling of her power into her hands. Green waves pulsated and rumbled through the air. Yet for all her effort, Aedan's heartbeat remained faint and his wound still did not close?

_Why aren't they closing?_

Morrigan leaned backwards and leaned her face into her hand. She needed to rest; she felt dizzy. She tried to control the heaving in her chest and the trembling in her fingers.

For the first time, the thought occurred to her: Aedan could die. Her breaths shortened and became more frantic. It had always been a possibility, but never one she'd thought would happen. He was reckless, stubborn, and foolhardy, but he'd always found a way to survive and beat the odds.

In a way, she respected him more than any other person. Armies followed his words. People flocked to him for help. Countless leaders had fallen before his blade. He was something straight out of the stories that the bard told. Her mother had always told her such tales were wishful thinking, but little by little, Aedan had made her believe in him.

And yet, half-dead and barely breathing, Morrigan remembered that Aedan was simply a man. He shed blood and tears, and stumbled beneath his responsibilities.

In desperation Morrigan took out a spare vial of lyrium and downed the entire thing.

"Morrigan, you can't just drink the entire-"

"I am not losing him!"" breathed Morrigan with her voice hoarse. Her magic grew erratic as the waves of healing energy shook the surrounding area. She slammed her hands against his chest. Morrigan clenched her teeth as a desperate tear dripped down her face. Aedan's body glowed like a beacon.

_I don't want to feel this way. This gnawing feeling that claws at my heart. This worrying pain that seeps through my body and sets into my bones. If he is not here, is this what I will be left with? This...sadness?_

"Do not die," she whispered,"Please."

As though on command, Aedan's skin began to mend. Morrigan sighed in relief. She cupped his cheek and smiled weakly. Morrigan felt exhausted from exerting herself so much. But she knew in a few mere hours Aedan would awake, would make a stupid joke and make her laugh, and then she'd sit by his side. It wouldn't matter whether they talked or not; simply having him there made a certain feeling well up in her chest. She felt bliss and happiness, and just wanted to feel like that again. Morrigan shook his shoulder once. Aedan did not respond. Morrigan shook him once again a little more frantically. The man's eyes fluttered briefly. His body convulsed in a seizure and the wounds and scars opened back up. The blood trickled out once again and soaked into the grass beneath him. Morrigan's relieved smile morphed into a horrid expression of desperation.

"He's not healing," she whispered with her tears at a breaking point. Her hands hovered over Aedan's maimed body. Over and over she attempted to summon what little magic she had left in the faintest of sparks emanated from her fingers. Exhausted and her vision blurring from the tears in her eyes, Morrigan hung her head and stared blankly at the ground in silence.

Alsitar stood over Morrigan and his injured friend. His hand hovered over the shaking witch's shoulder. He briefly placed his hand there, but drew away after a few seconds, as though it might burn him. Still, despite his reservations, Alistair knew that whatever the witch's true intentions, she truly did care for his friend. "Let's bandage him up...apply some poultices...and hope he gets better," croaked Alistair who turned to his pack of bandages.

Morrigan leaned over the shivering Aedan and hid her face with her hands. Hot tears dripped through the cracks in her fingers and splashed onto Aedan's bloodied face.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

So yeah, big chapter this time- longest one I've done so far. Next one is partially written, so it shouldn't be too long this time. Some thoughts:

-Aedan finally takes Avernus's mixture! I always liked the idea of the Warden being able to unlock the full potential of the Taint in his blood. That being said, as seen above, there are side-effects, possibly more.

-A lot of Morrigan this chapter, and that's something we'll definitely see more of in the coming chapters.

Next chapter will be the final one in this arc, and it hits Aedan hard.

_Replies to reviews:_

lazarus wolf: Glad you like it.

SgtGinger: I think the explosion at Alistair was something that needed to happen, as it brings up one of the sorest topics for Alistair, and for Aedan as well.

Jarjaxle- As for Aedan's feeling towards Orzammar, next chapter will wrap up how he feels about that and all the other dubious acts he's had to perform. Next chapter will also set up something extremely interesting for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, so look forward to that as well.

Guest: Glad you like my rendition.


	47. Choices

**Part 5: Leaders**

_Chapter 47: Choices_

Aedan's eyes fluttered awake. How long had it been since he had slept so well? Aedan's body felt recuperated, that is, until he tried to sit up. Deep pain shot through his ligaments. Aedan propped his head up to see Morrigan laying over his chest and sleeping. He smiled and stroked the side of her face with his thumb. The witch, still drowsy eyed, got up. A thin trail of drool dripped from her mouth. Aedan chuckled, and the witch took a moment to realize what he was laughing about. Morrigan hastily wiped her mouth and croaked, "You are awake."

Surprisingly, his stomach did not growl- usually after such an exertion it'd rumble like a storm. If anything, the increased taint usage should have increased his hunger. He must not have been out for awhile. Aedan asked casually,"Did I pass out from blood loss? How embarrassing."

The witch remained silent as Aedan regained his bearings. Perhaps she did not respond due to drowsiness. Aedan groaned and tried to lift himself up again, but a strange pain shot through his bones. "Did you translate your mother's true grimoire yet?" he grunted whilst staring up at the ceiling of the tent, "Hopefully they remembered to search the cabin before I passed out."

Morrigan didn't answer. She merely stared at the same spot on the floor. Aedan tilted his head in confusion while waiting for a response. "Morrigan?" he repeated.

It then occurred to him why everything hurt. Aedan leaned his head up again to see the countless blood stained bandages wrapped around his body, and more discarded in the corner of the camp. Flecks of blood still covered Morrigan's fingers. How much had he bled, and for how long?

"What did you do?" whispered Morrigan finally.

"I did what you told me to do- I killed your mother," answered Aedan, trying to keep the conversation casual. He didn't need anyone else to know about Avernus's mixture.

"When they brought you in...you were bleeding inside and out. Flemeth could not have caused that internal bleeding. Your heart, your lungs, your muscles, everything…like something was eating away at them." Morrigan fiddled with the ends of one of his bandages. "Your wounds wouldn't close. They just kept opening up, out of control. You almost died. You were at death's door for almost a day. Eventually, your body stopped damaging itself..and we managed to close you up."

"What did you do," she whispered under her breath, finally turning to him. Aedan hesitated. He had never seen Morrigan like this. When he looked closer, he saw her eyes red and the skin beneath them slightly puffy. Had she been crying?

"Noth-"

"Do not say nothing. Do not pretend like nothing is wrong. Do not shrug this off like every other time," snapped the witch.

"When I see you like this, I feel...I feel this tightness in my chest. This...sadness. I was… am...worried," spilled out Morrigan, stumbling over her own words as though she didn't even know what they meant. For her, it was the first time even saying such things.

"I'm fine," said Aedan, who propped himself upwards. He could feel sensation returning to his body. He peeled away at the bandages at his right arm. The scars from Highever had not opened up, but the one from his battle with Branka on his right hand did. The open wound stung as badly as on the day he had gotten it. No doubt the more recent the wound, the more likely it was to open up. Aedan hastily rewrapped the bandage around his right hand. With each passing second, Aedan could feel the strength returning to his limbs. Usually he only felt the taint in his blood when he fought, but as he sat there Aedan could feel the darkness within him pulsating ever so softly.

"Liar," Morrigan whispered weakly.

"I'm fine," Aedan iterated again, placing his hands on her arms. She felt cold. She'd probably fallen asleep without a blanket as she watched over him throughout the past few days. Aedan tried to look into her eyes, bags beneath from lack of sleep, but Morrigan turned away from his gaze.

"Liar." Morrigan trembled."If you had seen your body...if you had seen…"

Morrigan placed her left hand atop of the one Aedan had placed on her right arm. Her fingers curled softly around his. "Every iota of my magic did nothing. All my herbs did nothing. All my knowledge did nothing. I was powerless and I couldn't do a thing to save you. "

"What I've done...is simply how is has to be. It's what I have to carry,"smiled Aedan sadly, taking Morrigan's hand in his own. The woman shivered feverishly. Aedan hugged his arms around her. The witch lay in his arms against his chest. Her heart pounded. "I'm sorry I put you through that," Aedan said in her ear,"I know how hard even the thought of losing someone can be." He felt a wet tear drip down from Morrigan's face and against the back of his neck. Aedan held her for awhile in silence. Morrigan nuzzled her head against side of his and pressed in closer.

After awhile, Aedan coughed uncomfortably and whispered, "I don't want to be that guy, but if you press up against me any closer and a certain part of me is going to...well, let's just say it's been awhile."

Morrigan laughed weakly, wiped away a tear, and pinched his cheek. "Typical man, can't even control his loins." Morrigan pressed her head against his face, and then swivelled her face upwards against his to meet his lips in a tender kiss. Their lips lingered softly against one another as they tried to pull apart, but the heat between them beckoned them even closer."You should probably rest," murmured Morrigan, despite moving deeper into the kiss.

"Woman, I just killed a dragon for you. If a mirror gets me a kiss, then you can be sure I'm having my way with you tonight," said Aedan as he intertwined his fingers with hers.

* * *

><p>Alistair heard Morrigan's voice from the tent. The templar scratched the side of his head and sighed. "Maybe I should check on her...she's been by his side the entire time...and we were harsh on her earlier," said Alistair.<p>

"I didn't think she could cry," admitted Leliana as she lightly brushed her fingers over the strings of her lute.

"Don't ever mention we saw that. We could actually die," cautioned Zevran, "Much like many assassins I know, the witch is a tight lipped woman...but perhaps you should check on her, Alistair."

Alistair nodded and approached Aedan's tent. "Morrigan, are you alright-" asked Alistair as he opened the flap of the tent. "Maker!" cried Alistair, covering his eyes and running from the tent. The traumatized Alistair sat back down in daze with his bowl of soup. He looked back down at the sausage swimming about the broth and gagged."He's awake...and he receiving...in depth medical attention. Ugh."

"Somehow I figured," laughed Zevran uncontrollably, "Didn't really sound like a crying moan." The laughing elf held his stomach and struggled not to fall out of his seat as pointed at the distraught Alistair.

Alistair glared at the elven assassin."If you figured, why didn't you tell me?" Zevran continued to laugh his lungs out and shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe he just pretended to be wounded to get some pity sex," piped in Oghren. "Also, you gonna eat the rest of that kid?"

"Oghren!" scolded Wynne.

"What? I did it with Branka sometimes," admitted Oghren. Alistair, still disgusted, handed the dwarf the rest of his stew. The other warrior proceeded to slurp down the leftovers as loudly as possible. "Sometimes a man doesn't want to do any work," explained Oghren through a mouthful of sausage, "and just wants his lady friend to ride on top. Ancestors' know he's tired..the kid just killed a dragon."

"Don't think that's the case...he was going at her like…" Alistair slammed his fist into his other hand repeatedly and stuck his tongue out in disgust "That is far more penis than I wanted to see today."

"Perhaps it shall meet the quota of the penis I wish to see today," slithered Zevran as he eyed Aedan's tent.

"Gross," iterated Alistair, before going back to stoking the fire. After a few moments of silence, Leliana quietly asked, "I mean did you see the entire thing, how big was it-"

"I wasn't checking for size!" exclaimed the templar. Several stray birds flew out of the trees in shock.

"Just curious," muttered Leliana, looking away as she twirled one her red bangs, "it's just one of those things you wonder about."

"I don't!"

"I do," stated Zevran proudly. Leliana shrugged her shoulders with a blush in her cheeks. Wynne looked away and whistled. Alistair stared at all three with his hands shaking. "You don't….about mine-" stuttered Alistair.

Zevran grinned maliciously and licked his lips."Don't worry, Alistair. I've seen yours while you bathed- you truly do have the sword of a king. If you wish to, ahem, sword fight-"

"One, please stop peeping at my penis, and two, not that I was fishing for that, but thanks anyways," breathed Alistair dryly. Leliana gestured at Zevran with both hands and increased the size between the two of them as though measuring something. Zevran leaned in, grabbed both hands, and pulled them further apart. Lelina covered her mouth and eyed Alistair's lower body with a smile.

Alistair buried his scarlet face in his hands.

* * *

><p>Morrigan's fingers dragged against Aedan's back as her body convulsed with pleasure, her mind blank. Her body rocked against Aedan's as, unable to hold on, he slammed one final time into her, eliciting a frenzied moan from Morrigan. Her legs locked around his waist as he grunted and finished. Morrigan gasped a little with each hot spurt inside of her. Sweaty and exhausted, Aedan sank down against Morrigan's body. Morrigan grinded her hips instinctively against his, still riding down from the post-orgasm bliss. Aedan cradled her head in his arms and embraced Morrigan in a slow kiss. The two stayed like that for awhile, basking in each other's warmth.<p>

Exhausted, Aedan rolled both of them onto their sides and let out a long pained groan. Perhaps he had gone a little bit more than his body could take. He peeked through the crack in his tent flap; it had been afternoon when they started, and now the moon shone outside in the darkness.

"I think I'm just going to lay down for the next few days...maybe sleep off the whole 'almost dying' thing a bit more," he groaned.

Breathless, Morrigan still could not speak. She tried to get up but her limbs tingled and felt like jelly. She glanced at Aedan's tent flap and then back at him. Their legs still were still intertwined and their bodies still pressed together- her back to his chest. Morrigan felt Aedan's heavy breath against the back of her head and the fall and rise of his chest against her back.

Noticing her hesitation, Aedan said, "You don't have to go. I mean, first off, you have to put on all your clothes again to get back out." He nuzzled his nose into her hair and took a quick inhale, and smiled a little. Morrigan's hair smelt like wild herbs and the slightest tinge of cocoa.

"I haven't set up my tent either," panted Morrigan who twirled a bang of her sweat slicked hair.

"And even if you wanted to set it up, it's rather cold outside too," added Aedan.

"And I'd have to deal with the prying eyes of our companions." Hesitantly, Morrigan turned around on her side, lay her head on his arm and clung onto Aedan's torso. Aedan wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. Although she was tired, sweaty, and sleep deprived, none of those were the reasons why Morrigan didn't want to get up. Aedan was warm and comfortable. She dug her face into his rough neck and smiled. It was only practical to sleep here. There was nothing more to it. As the witch drifted off into slumber, cradled by Aedan, a single thought popped into her mind.

_Maybe...I don't have to leave at all._

Morrigan's eyes widened as she realized what she was doing. Everything hit her all at once.

_What am I doing?_

Here she was doing such unnecessary things. She had no reason to sleep next to him during the night. She had no reason to fret over him unnecessarily. She was here for one reason. Regardless of Flemeth's death, Morrigan still had a job to do. Morrigan looked to the side at Aedan's drooping eyes. She struggled mentally to pull herself from his side. Every part of her body begged her to stay and lay down in warmth and affection.

_What is this dependency? This hunger?_

"I need to go," exclaimed Morrigan as she gathered her clothes. Her head pounded as she pulled her robes back over her head in a huff. She didn't even take her time to tie all her straps or finish putting her arm through the last loop in her robe. As quickly as she had shot up, Morrigan rushed out the entrance to Aedan's tent.

"Oh..okay," frowned Aedan. The Warden sighed and rolled over onto his back. He looked over at the empty spot on his bedroll where Morrigan had laid.

* * *

><p>It had been a week since that night where Morrigan had rushed out. As usual, Aedan and Alistair sat across from each other in silence, sipping on their soup. Aedan frowned. Something tasted different- as though it had been watered down. "Did we thin out the soup or something?" asked Aedan aloud. The comment was not particularly directed at Alistair, but the templar heard it.<p>

"Same recipe as usual," replied Alistair quietly. Alistair opened his mouth to jest, the whispers of a grin forming at the edges of his mouth, but the smile faded and left the two in silence again. Alistair and Aedan were still not on the best terms. Ever since Aedan's heated outburst at Alistair, and Alistair storming off, neither of them had talked about the issue.

Aedan knew he had some fault in it. Alistair had been arguing, albeit somewhat annoyingly, about the validity of a grey decision. Alistair had fault as well- he did not try to understand what Aedan was going through when he made that decision. Yet when Aedan had gotten enraged, he crossed a line. Aedan knew that the topic of leadership was a sore one for Alistair, and Aedan had simultaneously questioned Alistair's ability to lead and belittled him.

I am your leader, Aedan had said. He had taken the unspoken and concretely laid it out. Worse he had berated Alistair for not being the leader. The two had never talked about how after Ostagar Aedan had taken up the reins when it should have fallen to Alistair.

Aedan raised his eyebrows expectantly waiting for the joke, but Alistair had already fallen silent again. Aedan frowned and stirred the soup in his bowl. He missed the jokes. The two had been close to equals before Orzammar. Aedan compared the situation in his mind to that of soldiers or guardsmen- those of equal rank could joke and jester with each other like good friends, but when it came to commanding officers they could not.

Out of the corner of his eye Aedan saw Morrigan flicker into the forest. The man grimaced and strode off into her direction. The witch looked back, saw him, and flinched.

"Morrigan, have you been avoiding me?" asked Aedan. Morrigan paused and turned to face him. She brushed her hair aside and tried to keep a calm look on. "No, I simply do not wish to speak to you."

"That's the same thing," retorted Aedan dryly.

Taken aback and with no other deflections ready, Morrigan bit her lip and blurted out,"I...wish to ask something of you. I have been wondering it and how to best put into words."

"Alright," said Aedan warily. He had never seen morrigan so...flustered. The witch's eyes kept darting their gaze from the ground to him to the sky and back. Her fingers and feet fidgeted.

Almost a whisper, the witch muttered,"I wish to know your opinion of love."

It took Aedan a second to process. He raised his eyebrows. "My opinion? On love?" The warden hesitated before answering, "In general? Or in relation to...us?"

Morrigan composed herself, and asked calmly,"You are...impressive...in many ways, and even protected me from Flemeth without hope of reward. I often times find myself looking upon you unnecessarily."

Her calm veneer faded slowly. Her breathing hastened. "When I do, I feel anxious. Like my chest tightens and I cannot breathe," explained Morrigan, spitting out the words as fast as she could. "I dislike this feeling. This pain of dependency. When you're not here...when you're in danger, I cannot think straight. I cannot sleep. Yet when you're here...I'm compelled to do things so impractical...like be held by you...touch you...simply sit by you…" Morrigan rubbed her face repeatedly, nervously stuttering out her words. Her normally well-kept dark hair had stray ends sticking out."Is this what love is? Fretting over someone, hungering for them, until it consumes you?" The witch shivered and placed her hands on the sides of her arms, overwhelmed with emotion. She swallowed tensely.

"I just...just want to be like I was before," relented Morrigan. "Say you do not love, and release me from this….torture! Perhaps...that will solve it."

"How is love torture?" asked Aedan, half in confusion, half out of fear of what might come next.

"To be bound to another human like this is torture!" shouted Morrigan, "To have to feel...when you are not well. To have to be in pain when you are in pain. To have worry tie itself around your heart and squeeze the air out of your chest. I do not wish to be like this anymore! Say you do not love me, and release me!"

Aedan was taken aback by the loudness and desperation of Morrigan's voice. His face twisted in confusion. The witch saw his face and panicked."I see it in your eyes, this is not how a normal woman acts. See- I am not worth your distraction, and you are not worth mine."

Aedan's mind raced as he processed Morrigan's words. Had he ever been in 'love'? He had dallied with the daughters of nobles, and occasionally with the townfolk. After all, simply throwing out the name 'Cousland', a family second only to the king, tended to have an effect on women. He had lusted after women and pursued them, but he never truly spent more time than that in their company, certainly not enough to call it a relationship.

Leliana spoke of it in her romantic tales of fancy. Of knights rescuing princesses from towers. Of humble stable boys capturing the heart of a noble far above their league. In the stories however, Leliana merely defined love by itself. The two 'fell in love' or 'love bloomed'.

If there was such as definition, Aedan could only think of one for the word 'love'. Aedan had loved his family. He remembered fondly the warmth of his mother's hugs, the countless days spent rough-housing with his brother, reading stories to his nephew Oren, the familiar taste of Nan's cooking, and of course the teachings and talks of his father. He could not define it as a single sentence, but more like a collections of moments and memories.

"Say you do not love me," Morrigan repeated again, even more desperate in her tone. For what seemed like an eternity, Aedan stood there speechless, unsure of what to say. In all his time, Aedan had never seen Morrigan's face twist into such a sad expression. He wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. Aedan wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

When he thought about whether or not he loved Morrigan, the little moments they had shared flashed by in his mind. When they sat beside each other in camp and talked and how happy it made him. How she pouted whenever he went too far in teasing her, and how he'd have to apologize. How her simple meals tasted; not extravagant nor fancy like noble food, but humble and delicious in their own way. How when she smiled he felt like his burdens lightened a bit.

"I can't," Aedan whispered finally. Morrigan hesitated for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes. Aedan stepped forward to reach for her but the witch backed away.

"So you would willingly submit to this? You would willingly submit me to this?" she said.

Aedan's hand outstretched towards Morrigan, yearning for her. "That's not-"

Aedan took another step, one too close. Morrigan without thinking slapped Aedan. To the both of them, it felt as though it was the sound of thunder striking down. Both were equally shocked. Aedan rubbed the side of his face. Morrigan, disgusted by what she had just done, held her shaking hand. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, before running off further into the forest.

Aedan raised his hand to reach out for her, but another wave of memories came over him. How he had sat forlornly in the carriage with Duncan for three days after his family's death. The sadness that flitted in his heart everyday as he thought about them. How in the dark of the night their memories haunted him. Aedan had no idea what could happen to him in the days to come. Would he willingly put Morrigan through the same agony that he too had gone through?

Slowly, Aedan lowered his outstretched hand and let it lay at his side. The Warden bitterly turned around and back into the camp.

* * *

><p>For the next week, Morrigan did not speak to him. Talking to each other would be painful. It wasn't a burning pain like anger, nor was it a gut wrenching pain like death. It was a bittersweet pain, where the fleeting moments of happiness would fool the two into more pain.<p>

The others no doubt had picked up on the fact the two were no longer talking. They didn't say a word though. They had at least that much tact. The most anyone ever did was Oghren leaving half a handle of booze in Aedan's tent. Sometimes Aedan forgot that Oghren had just lost his significant other and most of his family. Often times he found the dwarf drunk out of his mind. Was he any different? Aedan held the flask in his hand close to his chest as he lay down in his bedroll. The booze helped him get what little sleep he could.

After he drifted off into slumber, Aedan found himself in the darkness of his dreams once again. He walked alone with his bare feet. Thick blood soaked between the cracks of his toes. The bodies of the werewolves turned humans that he had killed floated in the swamp of blood. By now, Aedan had seen them enough times in his dreams that the sight of them no longer perturbed him. A woman's lopped off head rolled over and dead fish-like eyes stared straight back at him. Aedan rolled his eyes in irritation and kicked the head off into the distance. He'd had enough of nightmares. He clenched his fists and punched himself in the stomach, trying to will himself awake, but to no avail. The blood soaked battlefield before him remained.

A single torch alit. Branka stood before him, her face half charred, with molten armor dripping down her bleeding limbs. "You destroyed the Anvil of the Void. Think of the countless lives those golems could have saved; even if it came to pass that tyrants would force people into golems, each one suffering life could have saved thousands."

Another fire alit, revealing the mother from dust town. "You killed my son. You killed all those Carta members. many of whom simply joined up to get a better life. You dare call yourself a good person?"

A dozen more torches alit, revealing Aedan to be in the Assembly. Scores of dwarven warriors, nobles, and children stood in the stands instead of the usual Assembly spokespeople. Harrowmont stood before Aedan with blood dripping from his neck. "And what of my house, whom you left to the slaughter?"

"What about us?"

"You didn't save my son-"

"You weren't fast enough-"

The countless people closed in upon him. They lumbered towards him like the undead of Redcliffe and beset him on all sides. Branka, Harrowmont, the Carta, and all the other hideously deformed victims rushed at him. Aedan roared and slashed his sword forward into the crowd. Blood sprayed from their wounds. More people lept from behind. Aedan swung around and cleaved their heads into two. He swung and he swung until finally he was soaked in a layer of scarlet blood and the entrails of his victims.

Only Branka remained. The disgustingly burnt woman erupted with fury and the familiar tentacles of the broodmother burst forth from the pool of blood. Aedan dodged and weaved through the storm of tentacles with a cold precision. Finally, he reached Branka, and grabbed her by the neck. He pushed her down into the pool of blood and strangled her beneath the thick liquid. The dwarven woman struggled beneath his grip and clawed at his forearms. Her tainted nails scraped off pieces of his flesh. Bubbles of blood from her desperate breaths splashed in Aedan's face but soon slowed as the specter beneath the blood ceased her struggles.

"You've made quite a mess here, son," came his father's voice from behind. Aedan spun around, expecting to see another mangled corpse. Instead he saw his father as he remembered him- or at least as much as he could remember. Bryce's face was blurred and unfocused despite being only three feet away from Aedan. It was as though Aedan was peering at the man from over a vast distance. The memory of his father's face was fading from his mind. "Sure you're doing the right thing here?" asked his father, placing his hand on Aedan's shoulder.

Aedan shrugged away his father's hand."I made my decisions the best I could. If I had to make those decisions over again, I would," resolved Aedan, "There is no choice without consequence, and I chose the lesser evils." He stared coldly at the ghost before him with the blood dripping down his face.

Bryce laughed at Aedan like a small child."Do you think that matters? Do you think simply accepting your decisions will make us and the rest go away? We're just reflections. Reflections of the dead, fueled by your memories and thoughts." The smiling specter of his father approached him. Aedan backed away warily until he felt the clammy hands of the dead clasp onto his feet and hold him in place.

"So really, the only person in here who truly detest and despises what you've done-"

Staring straight into his son's eyes, Bryce took his hand and ruffled Aedan's hair.

"-is you," whispered Bryce. One by one the people whom he had lost dragged themselves up from the bottomless pool of blood. His mother, Oren, Fergus, Oriana, Nan, Teharel, Adair, and countless others from Castle Cousland all surrounded him.

"You, who thought, he could be a hero," said his mother.

"I saved the Circle! I saved Redcliffe! All you need is resolve, big speeches, and the power of understanding to save all the innocents!" mocked Fergus.

"Even though all your heroes failed you, you foolishly thought you could become what they could not," said Oriana.

"You thought you could learn from my regret," stated Teharel.

"And learn from my sins," stated Adair..

"You thought you could be better than Loghain, who sacrificed the king and all those men. You thought you could be better than Zathrian, who let his rage consume the people around him. You thought you could be better than Branka, who sacrificed countless lives just to reach her objective," said Bryce,"but you're not better, and you know that. You're weren't strong enough to live up to your unrealistic standards of a hero. You can never be that person. And because you weren't that person, everything you love has left you, and you hate yourself for your own weakness."

His loved ones went silent, leaving only the sound of blood dripping from their bodies. Aedan looked back at each and everyone of them, his chest heavy with regret. For what seemed like an eternity, Aedan stood in silence, before he croaked,"Don't tell me things I already know."

Bryce smiled, revealing rotting teeth. The same grotesque black liquid that flowed in Hespith's veins oozed out of the cracks in his teeth. Aedan looked around and saw everyone's skin rotting off before him. They clawed at their faces, peeling away their skin to reveal infected, rotted flesh beneath it. He could smell that sickening acidic stench, like the broodmother's bile.

A deafening roar blew Aedan backwards into the pool of blood. Aedan choked and gagged. The man scrambled backwards and tried to catch his back. Upon looking backwards, he saw it.

The archdemon.

Three times bigger than Flemeth. Jagged, yellowed teeth like swords. Maggots squirmed in the rotted skin, stretched over the decrepit skeleton of the Old God. It's eyes, filled with a swirling darkness and ancient malice, stared at him. Aedan's hands shook and he reached for the Cousland sword by his side. Instead all he found was a single shard of the shattered blade. Aedan grabbed it regardless with his bare hand. The metal dug into his clenched grip and blood ran down his arm. Aedan roared and lept at the Archdemon. The dragon opened its mouth. The rows of teeth expanded outwards and revealed a endless chasm. Aedan fell headfirst into the monster's throat and plummeted into the darkness.

"Don't worry son," croaked his father in the distance, "No matter what happens, no matter how much of a monster you become, there is an end to your journey. Just finish this one last job, and then you can come home to us."

* * *

><p>Aedan shot out of his bed. Sweat dripped down his forehead as the Warden struggled to find his breath. After a few moments of feverish panting, Aedan closed his eyes and swallowed a deep breath of air. He needed to sleep. He hadn't slept in the last two days. He fumbled for his flask once again and downed what remained.<p>

How long had it been since he had been back to Soldier's Keep? Barely more than a month, but Aedan felt like it had been an eternity. So many things had happened. He greeted Levi with a weary smile as the eager merchant responded with a wave. Levi's kids scattered about the courtyard playing a game of some sorts.

"You're not going to unpack first?" asked Levi, "My wife just made soup if you'd like some." Aedan smiled sadly in appreciation of the kindness of the merchant.

"I've got an old man to interrogate," grunted Aedan as he strode off towards Avernus's tower. Levi had sectioned him off to a remote part of the keep to keep him away from the children. While Aedan doubted that Avernus would dare use children as test subjects, he did not blame Levi for taking precautions.

Aedan walked up the steps of Avernus's tower. Aedan was more tired than ever before. His last night of sleep had been that nightmare almost three days ago. Not even booze could get him to sleep. "Maybe if I drink more, I'll finally pass out," groaned Aedan as he eased himself up the stairs. He took a moment to rest upon the railing and let his the throbbing in his head subside. After a deep breath, Aedan continued until he reached the wooden door to Avernus's chamber. Aedan ignored common courtesy and simply opened the door to the chamber. "Let's talk, Avernus," Aedan stated as he entered.

As expected, the old man was cooking up some sort of experiment. Strange odors and smokes wafted through the room. Avernus looked up from his mixtures at Aedan. He squinted once, then smiled sinisterly and drummed his fingers together. "So, took my mixture did you? I can smell it."

"You never cease to creep me out," muttered Aedan as he slung the rest of his bags to the side of Avernus's room, careful not to get it near a dried up blood stain. "But yes, I took it, and it proved rather useful. Killed a dragon with it."

Avernus's eyes alit. "An actual real High Dragon?"

"Well, just a apostate shapeshifted into one," admitted Aedan. He wondered if an actual dragon or Flemeth would be more dangerous.

The mage frowned and gave a half-hearted sigh,"Still, very intriguing...would it be too late to get blood samples...no, far far too late, and the blood wouldn't have the right alchemical properties…Still, if you happen upon any other blood samples, we could use them to augment and stabilize the mixture in your blood."

"So by stabilize, are you talking about the bleeding side effect?" asked Aedan, "Seems to defeat the purpose of a 'perfect' mixture."

"I never had to worry about healing my test subjects," shrugged Avernus. The mage scratched his chin and pondered for a few moments. His fingers traced strange symbols and numbers in the air as he calculated something in his head."No matter; as long as you train your body to handle it and use it sparingly until such a time, you should be fine. It's like giving an untrained soldier a weapon; eventually he'll learn how not to smack himself in the face."

"Can you fix it now? That's why I'm here." asked Aedan, "I doubt the Archdemon and the horde are just going to sit around and twiddle their thumbs together while I hit trees."

"Possibly," mused Avernus as he thumbed through some of his old research notes, "In my time at Soldier's Keep, I have had limited success with the preserves of dragons blood in my lab in terms of accelerated regeneration. I tried dragon's blood because I heard rumors of certain dragon cults possessing the knowledge to ritually enhance dragon's blood, and then ingest it, similar to the Joining. I was trying to recreate something similar, but their formula has taken hundreds of years to perfect. I could only do so much."

"Fantastic. I'll just go find another dragon to kill, or cult, or whatever," sighed Aedan. He unwrapped his forearms bandages and held out his bloodied right hand. It still had not healed properly. "You want blood samples or something? I assume my blood's useful to you now and I'm already half-open."

Avernus rubbed his hands together eagerly and grabbed his beakers and vials, squealing in delight. The elderly mage positioned a funnel beneath Aedan's outstretched hand. The Warden squeezed the wound in his right hand and let blood dribble down the funnel into Avernus's vial.

"Technically, the most ideal sample would be most of your bone marrow," mused Avernus, "I could reproduce most of the formula from that."

"Excuse me while I go lob off my limbs," drawled Aedan.

"Well, considering after the Archdemon I'll perform an autopsy on you, I think I'll manage to sneak off a few bone marrow samples."

"What do you mean, after the Archdemon? You sound like I'm guaranteed to die. Thanks for the vote of confidence," joked Aedan, expecting a quick response from Avernus. Avernus looked at him puzzled. Slowly his face wrinkled twisted into a sad look of pity. His signature maniacal smile had vanished.

"What?" asked Aedan. The room felt cold all of a sudden.

"They never told you, did they?" Avernus whispered as he put away his vials. Aedan narrowed his eyes as he redid his bandages."Told me what? Alistair already told me about the Calling. I've still got a couple of decades left."

"The other Warden wouldn't know about this either I'm guessing." Avernus rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath. "When an Archdemon is slain, it's soul escapes to the nearest darkspawn, as they are soulless. They are essentially immortal, jumping from vessel to vessel. If the Archdemon's soul inhabits a darkspawn, it shall still be able to command the horde, and the darkspawn will eventually warp to the Old God's original form."

Aedan hesitated before asking quietly,"Then how does a Blight end?"

"You think it a coincidence that every Warden who killed the Archdemon 'died of their wounds'? This is the very reason why Grey Wardens are specifically needed to stop the Blight. As we are vessels with souls and the taint, the Archdemon's soul will gravitate to the one who slew it. Since there are two souls and only one vessel, the two will collide and implode, destroying them both."

"Since I doubt that Orlais will be sending any help, the only people in this country capable of killing the Archdemon is you and Alistair...and no doubt you will need to put the Theiren blood on the throne...so that leaves the killing blow to…"

"Me," replied Aedan. He leaned against the nearby desk and slid into the seat. His head throbbed from the lack of sleep. It took him a few minutes to process what Avernus had said. Aedan's response could barely be heard."So...I'm going to die?" he whispered. Aedan eased himself into a chair and stared blankly at the wall. He had known of the Calling, but that was thirty years away. He knew everyday of the risks he underwent in risking his life to fight the darkspawn, but it was always a theoretical. All of that was different from a guaranteed death sentence.

He hadn't thought much about what he'd do after the Blight. He never stopped to imagine. To think about a happier time, to think about the life he had once had, always brewed sadness in his heart, but there had been a little part of him that hoped that the universe would reward him with a bit of happiness for stopping the Blight. Apparently that had been too much to hope for.

"Usually the senior Wardens like me are tasked with landing the killing blow...but I would not survive the battle to the Archdemon with this body of mine." The elder mage awkwardly stood by his alchemy setup and fiddled with one of his test tubes.

"Don't tell Alistair. Don't tell any of the others," said Aedan abruptly.

"I'm sorry," said Avernus. Despite having tortured and experimented on countless, as well as having summoned demons, Aedan felt that this was the first time he had heard the old Warden speak those words.

"Don't be," grunted Aedan as he lifted himself out of his chair,"It's my responsibility."

* * *

><p>The other were upstairs having dinner. Alistair had managed to kill a boar in the forest that day, and everyone was fairly excited, especially Zevran. "Antivan boar is to die for," the elf had exclaimed as he gathered up all the herbs. Aedan didn't feel like joining them. If he did, he'd sit there in silence as the others laughed and joked. It didn't matter at this point anyways. The closer he got to them, the more they would suffer upon his eventual death. Aedan sighed. Perhaps it was better that Morrigan and him had stopped talking. He didn't want people, especially her, suffering after he was gone.<p>

The old pantry was sparingly stocked as no one ever came down there. Aedan rummaged through the decrepit drawers and sifted through cobwebs for any sort of food. To his surprise, an old bottle of scotch had been hidden away in one of the corners. "Lucky me," muttered Aedan who snatched up the bottle. Not having found any substantial food, Aedan sat down at the counter and pulled out a piece of jerky from his pocket. Aedan bit off a chunk and as he chewed, a realization dawned on him. His chewing slowed.

Aedan couldn't taste anything.

He rolled the hunk of meat inside his mouth over his tongue. Nothing. He chewed a little more. He could feel the texture and the juices inside, but he could not taste it. Aedan swallowed the remainder and pulled out another piece of jerky, desperately chewing it in his mouth. It tasted like nothing but wet paper. Frantically, Aedan grabbed a vial of herbal medicine that Wynne had given him to eat, and swallowed the noxious mixture in one gulp. Everytime he had had this before, it tasted like garbage. Now it simply tasted like wet paper like the rest.

_There may be...side effects_, echoed Avernus in his mind. Aedan's hand trembled as the vial in his hand clattered against the counter. One last try. His hand moved to the scotch. Aedan had always loved the complexity of scotch- each one had it's own different set of flavors. Aedan poured the golden-brown liquid into the glass before him. He rolled the scotch around the inside of the glass. Aedan took a sniff- he could smell a light splash of citrus along with a nutty pecan scent and a hint of smoke. Aedan closed his eyes and took a sip. All complex flavor he had expected was no longer- all he could taste was the burn of alcohol. Aedan set the glass down with his right and leaned his forehead against his left.

For so long, Aedan had been fighting simply so the nation could survive. Yet he made sure that the choices he had made would ensure the stability of Fereldan after the Blight: he made sure that the mages would not be prosecuted for crimes not their own. He made sure that curse of the werewolves would spread no longer, and that those formerly under it would live happier lives. He made sure that Arl Eamon would have a family to come back to. And of all of them, he had sacrificed the most in ensuring that Orzammar would ensure in a new age of equality and trade.

Slowly, Aedan had been losing what was left for him after the Blight. He no longer had his family. Morrigan would no longer speak to him. Alistair and the others regarded him more as a leader than a friend. Aedan could no longer even sleep, and instead suffered through nightmares and guilt-ridden panic attacks. Before, his life used to be happy, with dark clouds that occasionally rained down. Yet Aedan could always see the light at the end of the tunnel. After his family's death, Aedan could see only darkness before him. The happy moments that kept him sane slowly dimmed.

And now, Aedan could not taste anything anymore. He had been deprived of even the simplest of pleasures, ones that even animals possessed. Aedan grimaced as he downed the rest of his glass.

"It doesn't even matter if I'm going to die," muttered Aedan to himself, "if there's nothing left of my life by the end of this."

* * *

><p>For now, Aedan was sane. He could deal with the decisions he had made thus far. He could deal with no longer being with Morrigan. He could deal with alienating the others. Aedan, however, was not invincible. He could not save every life. He could not defeat every enemy. Somewhere along the line, Aedan knew he would lose himself. Aedan's future had only decision after decision left for him, each one heavier than the last.<p>

_The weeks since returning to Castle Cousland had been nothing short of boring. At least when he had been running around with Adair and Teharel, things had been exciting. Aedan slouched drowsily in one of the large, comfy chairs of the living room. The chair had been imported straight from Orlais; a gift from those trying to gain favor with his father. Despite the reputation Orlais had in Fereldan, Aedan wriggled around comfortably in the plush wool cushions of the chair. A beam of light shone hazily upon him, and a comfortable warmth trickled through his body. Aedan grabbed a nearby blanket and pulled it over himself._

"_Drink, Aedan?"_

_Aedan looked up to see his father walk in with a book and a bottle of scotch. His father often liked to come into the living room and read by himself with a glass of scotch. "It's lunchtime, father. I'm not that shameless," yawned Aedan._

"_Says the one napping in the middle of the day," chided his father, pulling Aedan's blanket from him. The young man groaned and snatched it back. His father rolled his eyes and _

"_Do you ever think about what I'm going to do when I'm older, Father?"_

"_That's still a long ways off."_

"_I'm twenty-one, father. Not really."_

_Aedan's father blinked, then chuckled to himself. "Sorry, it's just that I always think of you like a little boy...the brightly colored blanket doesn't help." _

_Aedan hastily threw away the blanket and replaced it a with a more subdued brown one._

"_I mean...what do you want to do?" asked his father as he thumbed through his book. Aedan rolled over in his chair and stared at the ceiling in thought._

"_Honestly, I'm not sure. I could always stick around in Castle Cousland and stick around and help Fergus and you manage Highever, but you two are more than capable of doing that by yourselves." Aedan rubbed the back of his neck against the wool lining of the cushion, trying to itch a particular spot on his neck. After several moments of struggle, he finally hit the spot. Aedan sighed in relief. "I dunno...helping people sounds like something I'd like to do," yawned Aedan whilst stretching his arms. He pondered drowsily for a few moments before musing,"Maybe a Grey Warden?"_

"_A Grey Warden?" Bryce Cousland raised his eyebrow._

"_It's not that complicated a job. Go around and kill darkspawn all day. You don't have to deal with politicians, you have support from countries around Thedas, and you have comrades to fight by your side. Doesn't sound so bad."_

"_I'm a little wary to let my only other son join the Wardens. Plus, I'd doubt they'd take you."_

"_Really, Father?" scoffed Aedan, "Have you ever tried sparring against me?"_

"_And I never shall, because I know you'll properly trounce me," replied Bryce, sipping on his scotch. The elder Cousland rolled the glass about in his hand, letting the liquid coat the insides of the glass. He took a nice sniff of the scotch and sighed. "You eat too much. You sleep in past noon most days. You have quite a lack of respect for authority. You get itchy if you're not wearing anything besides fine linens. You-"_

"_I get it, Father, I live a cushy noble life," said Aedan, pulling his blanket over himself in defeat._

"_Well, that's not to say one day, son. Just don't be so quick to grow up." Looking over at his son struggling to tuck the blanket around himself, Bryce wasn't quite sure that day would come so soon. _

"_I want to be a Grey Warden too!" said the four year old Oren, having overheard the conversation from the hallway. The bright eyed little boy bounced into the living room and starting jabbing his wooden sword at Aedan's legs. _

"_Maker, it's like an epidemic," groaned Bryce whilst rubbing his eyes. Aedan ignored his father's annoyance and greeted his nephew with a wide grin. He took the blanket off of himself and tied it around Oren's neck like a cape. "How about you and I do battle against the the dreadful darkspawn mabari that lurks the corriders of this house? The frightful Gregory shall be defeated this day!" declared Aedan as he picked Oren up and placed him on his shoulders._

"_Let's go kill some darkspawn!" shouted Oren who bounced excitedly ontop his uncle's shoulders. "Heya!" shouted Oren as he jabbed his wooden sword at his grandfather. Bryce Cousland faked fear and chuckled, "Mercy upon me!"_

"_Let us find this mighty Gregory and conquer him and all the darkspawn!" declared Oren who placed his hands on his hips. Doing so, however, made him totter precariously. Aedan placed his hand behind Oren's back and steadied him._

_Aedan thought about what Adair said about enjoying his life. His noble life had always seemed boring and filled with nonsense politics, but seeing the dark corners of the world that Teharel and Adair had inhabited made Aedan appreciate the almost dream-like life he had always had. He had food, warm clothes, and a family who loved him. Aedan smiled as he thought about it. One day he'd be a hero, when he was grown and ready, but until then, he'd enjoy being a stupid young man doing childish things._

"_Hold on tight, Oren," said Aedan. Oren grabbed onto Aedan head and squeezed for his life. Aedan sprinted down the hallways of Castle Cousland with Oren's cape flowing in the wind._

_For now, there was no place he'd rather be. His home._

* * *

><p>Aedan didn't count how much he had drank. He could no longer taste anything except the burn so he simply wished to down it as quickly as possible. At some point, the sun had set, and Aedan sat alone in the dark with a stomach filled with not food but several glasses of booze. Only quiet of the keep kept him company. The rest of his comrades had not doubt gone to sleep.<p>

Alone in the dark, Aedan said aloud the words he had sometimes thought in the darkest corners of his mind. "I wish I had stayed there that night in Highever...with you two," he murmured drunkenly. As quickly however as that thought entered his mind, he shook it away. His parents had sacrificed themselves to save him. To think such a thing was a disgrace to their memory.

In the midst of his sorrow, a thought occurred to him. Why had Duncan saved him? Why had his parents saved him? Why had Flemeth saved him? A response popped into his head:

_I am alive for one singular purpose. To kill the Archdemon. Nothing else._

He repeated it once again in head.

_I am alive for one singular purpose. To kill the Archdemon. Nothing else._

Then he repeated again, and again, until finally his mind was calm. For once, his head felt clear of all distractions. Was this true clarity, or simply a drunken haze? What was it he had said? _It doesn't even matter if I'm going to die, if there's nothing left of my life by the end of this anyways._

"That's wrong," he whispered to himself. "It doesn't matter if there's nothing left of my life by the end of this, because I'm going to die anyways."

Aedan, despite the deep sadness that welled up in his heart, laughed feverishly. Aedan didn't need to waste his time on something as silly as being happy. He would throw himself into the task before him, the very reason why he was alive. It didn't matter how many sleepless nights Aedan had. It didn't matter how many scars and wounds were inflicted upon him. It didn't matter who he alienated. It didn't matter if by the end, Aedan stood alone, his hands tainted with the blood of countless people.

Aedan tipped his glass backwards and finished the last of his drink. It didn't matter what he wanted. Aedan should be the Warden. Aedan needed to be the Warden. Aedan had to be the Warden.

_My job is to lead this country against the Blight. Nothing more, nothing less._

The Warden, alone and holding the glass in his hand, whispered sadly to himself,"I'll finish this one last job, and then I'll come back home to you all."

* * *

><p><strong>PART 5 END<strong>

* * *

><p>Yeah, its been a wild ride writing these last few chapters. A few notes below:<p>

First, I'd like to thank everyone who's been reviewing. It's great reading all the responses to this fanfic and know you guys are enjoying it.

In regards to the current writing direction, I've mentioned this before, but I've always had a plan for how I wanted this piece to play out. If you look over the description of this fanfic, its "Everything Aedan thought he knew is tested, broken, and reforged within the fires of war". Parts 1, 2, and 3 (Ostagar, Circle, and Redcliffe) would be the testing, where Aedan is thrust into a war, finally able to use the skills he's fostered over the years. And he has success! He saves the Circle and Redcliffe completely! He gets the girl! Parts 4 and 5 would be the breaking. I wanted to take everything from Aedan. I wanted to take his optimism, the mercy he showed in sparing lives, and his justice. I wanted to take his friends, Morrigan, and his future, and leave him alone. I even took his sense of taste, something that I played up in earlier chapters as one of Aedan's favorite things (the very first scene with Aedan is him eating something). And as you can see, Aedan's hit rock bottom. Perhaps he'll be a lot colder and brutal in his methods, because he believes that after the Blight, he won't have to live with the guilt and consequences. But don't fret! Because in the next two parts comes the reforging. We'll start to see a lot more faces from Aedan's past.

SgtGinger: I tried to adapt the side effect from the game in a creative way (usually in the game you suffer continuous damage from having the Blood Thirst ability activated, as well as increased damage from other sources). It'd be far too overpowered if Aedan just got a superpower potion with no consequences.

Guest: Haha yeah my biggest problem is missing all those words and grammatical errors, although I'm trying to be better about it.

Guest: I can only dream…but thanks for the compliment!

Maru15: Thanks for the enthusiastic review! I'll check through Shale's dialogue again- I thought I hadn't put 'you' in any of her other sentences, but I must have missed a few.

I'm really glad that you enjoyed my writing of Aedan, and of his relationship with Morrigan. I deliberately made the progress very slow and gradual at the beginning for realism's sake (although in the last few chapters and this one they've moved quickly). Glad to know you enjoy all the the effort I put into writing Aedan's inner thoughts and turmoils.

Guest: Glad you enjoyed reading!

Guest: Glad you enjoy all the companion interactions! I enjoy writing the dialogue between them a lot. I particularly enjoyed this week's companion banter part.

Look forward to the next part with the Urn of Sacred Ashes, titled appropriately "Faith". As always, feel free to leave a review, constructive criticism, or just ask questions. See you all next time.


	48. Blood

**Part 6: Faith**

_Chapter 48: Blood_

Samson gasped for air as the gag and sack were stripped from his head. His eyes stared straight at his captor. The armored stranger had barged in no more than an hour ago and demanded information on Genitivi. Samson thought he had imitated the dead Weylon well. Once he had finished speaking however the armored man attempted to look around. Samson could still smell the burnt wood- he had attempted to kill the stranger with a fire spell. That was the second to last thing Samson remembered; the first being the stranger punching him in the jaw.

"I'm not sure what to call you," said the helmed man. His armor bore the Grey Warden insignia, dirtied by grime and blood. Samson gulped as he realized who the man might be- after all, only two Grey Wardens remained in Ferelden. Ferelden called him the Warden. Despite how secluded Haven was, even they had heard the rumours. The Warden had slaughtered darkspawn, abominations, werewolves, undead, and criminals alike. If not for the Warden, dozens of villages would have fallen completely to the Blight. He had saved powerful organizations like the Circle from utter ruin. He was a savior to the innocents...and an executioner to the rest.

Samson flexed his fingers to cast a spell. To his despair, nothing happened. The Warden scoffed,"That won't work. A vendor of mine gave me a little poison. Magebane they called it. It'll block your spells for a few minutes, but that's all we'll need."

The Warden grinded his knife against a whetstone. Brief sparks lit the darkness. Samson writhed against his bonds. His chair legs screeched against the wooden floor.

"I know you're not Weylon. Be civil now," said the Warden. He secured the knife in his belt and turned to face his prisoner.

"My name is Weylon," stuttered Samson. He had to keep his cover, for the sake of his holy prophet Andraste.

"Weylon is the name of the corpse I found half-rotted in the other room. Did you even think about giving him proper funeral rites?" The Warden drew in closer and leaned both his hands on Samson's chair.

Samson paused- the Warden had found the body. If the Warden already knew, Samson need not pretend any longer...but the rest of his knowledge needed to stay hidden. "He got too close...asked too many questions. As are you. My brethren will-"

The Warden steadied Samson's chair with one hand, and bashed the other into the man's face. A bloodied tooth clattered against the floor. Samson grunted in agony, but tried his best to hold it in. The Warden ignored his pain and continued. "Do you know what I could be doing right now? I could be riding back to Soldier's Peak to organize my troops and send them out to help with village evacuations. I could be training to defeat the Archdemon. Instead, I am here prying information out of a scumbag like you."

Steadying his mind, Samson concentrated on his words his holy Father Kolgrim. "O Maker, hear my cry. Guide me through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the temp-"

The Warden growled and slammed his palm over Samson's mouth. The rest of Samson's prayer was but a muffle.

"Let me tell you what I want to know." The Warden tightened his grip on Samson's mouth. "Did you come from Haven?" Samson felt the sharp metal fingers scrape his cheeks and whimpered. The Warden released his grip and instead grabbed onto the man's hair. He tugged upwards and lifted the man an inch in the air. Samson clenched his teeth. He would not be done in by this much.

The Warden leaned in and whispered. "Let me clarify. You will answer my questions. Everytime you do not answer them, I will rip off a finger with my bare hands." The Warden dropped Samson back onto the ground and placed his hand on his shoulder."If you answer all my questions, I'll let you go. So one more time. Did you come from Haven?"

Samson thought of the holy Andraste, whom he once glimpsed flying through the mountain tops. He would protect that glorious form of hers. Samson closed his eyes and chanted,"Oh mighty Andraste, let us be reborn as you were-"

"Wrong answer."

The air constricted and a faint metallic smell wafted through the air, like fresh blood. The Warden yanked Samson's pinky backwards, splitting the bone and twisting it clean off. Samson howled and began to hyperventilate. If he were so lucky, he would pass out from the sheer pain. Wet blood dripped from his maimed hand onto the floor.

This time, the Warden growled more sinisterly, "Are you from Haven?"

"Yes," croaked Samson. Maker forgive him. Samson sobbed as the unholy pain throbbed from his right hand.

The Warden flicked the pinky into the corner of the room. "Next question. Is Brother Genitivi still in Haven?"

"Yes," answered Samson, tears still streaming down his bruised face.

"Final question." The Warden paused briefly. Slowly he clenched both of Samson's middle fingers with his gauntlets. "Is the Urn of Sacred Ashes in Haven?"

Samson trembled in his chair. Not this. He could not answer this, for the sake of his prophet Andraste. Samson closed his eyes and whispered, "No." Perhaps the man would believe him- after all, the Warden had been described as hero by the rumors- surely he would show mercy and believe him.

The Warden leaned in. Samson could discern nothing of them man through his helm."Are you lying, Samson?" breathed the Warden.

"No!" cried Samson, "Please let me go, please! That's all I know!"

"Samson, I've lived amongst nobility. I know a liar when I see one." The Warden yanked the fingers backwards to the point where they almost broke."Please don't…" sobbed Samson as he shook his head from side to side. His tears flung against the floor of the chamber.

"Crying are we? I saw what you did to Weylon. You tortured him for information to assume his identity. I'll do exactly what you did to him, and then in addition, I'll tear every single one of your fingers, toes, and limbs off."

The Warden tugged more at the bent fingers. Just a little bit more force, and the fingers would come clean off. Despite the Warden's threats, Samson wept, "Do...do your worst."

"You really don't want to see my worst," muttered the Warden. He crushed Samson's fingers beneath his grip, then ripped broken fingers off. The Warden's hand clamped down upon Samson's mouth as the tortured man wailed in utter agony again and again. Hot blood dripped down from his maimed hands everywhere.

_What kind of monster can crush a man's fingers with only his grip, then tear them straight off?_

The pain blurred Samson's vision. The world spun. As his hands throbbed with the immense pain, his eyes lay upon his tormenter- the dark armored figure that towered above him, with palms that dripped with scarlet blood.

Father Kolgrim had told him stories of demons and monsters as a young child. Of the beasts that lurked in the shadows and whispered to men. Yet never before had Samson known terror like this. He had never yet met a monster until now.

"The Urn...the Urn is in Haven," sobbed Samson. The Warden patted him on the shoulder and said, "Imagine that. The former torturer lasts the shortest under torture. Thanks for saving me some time."

The Warden drew a kitchen knife with his other hand. Samson's heart dropped as the man rattled in his chair.

"Wait...I told you what you wanted...you promised to let me go! I promise not to do anything else!"

"Let's do some simple math. Several Redcliffe knights have gone missing around the Frostback mountains, near the area where Genitivi theorized where Haven is. Weylon was tortured and killed. Genitivi possibly shares the same fate. Whoever you people are, you are willing to do whatever it takes to keep your little secrets safe. You could kill again."

The Warden plunged his knife straight into the man's throat. Samson struggled beneath his bonds as the blood splurted out of his torn throat.

"I'm willing to dirty my hands if it means that another innocent doesn't have to suffer."

The last thing Samson saw was the Warden remove his helmet, and the cold, tired, sad eyes that lay beneath it.

* * *

><p>"It was rather kind of you to scatter his ashes," said Zevran from atop his horse.<p>

The Warden glanced sideways at his companion. Aedan had wanted to travel alone. After all, he didn't need to waste time making camp as he didn't sleep much. However, Zevran had insisted on coming to visit the markets in Denerim, despite it only being a recon mission.

"I just took what was left in the chimney afterwards and threw it away," grunted Aedan.

"I would have just dumped it in a well."

"Who dumps bodies in a well? That's where people drink out of."

"I sincerely hope you don't visit the Chantry in Denerim then."

Aedan grumbled beneath his breath."Not that religious anyways." Aedan whipped the reins of his horse again to hasten it. The horse galloped forward up the jagged hill. The entrance to Soldier's Peak as not well known, nor was it easy to navigate. On the one hand, Loghain would have a difficult time finding it, but on the other, it meant trips to the fortress were a hassle.

Aedan and Zevran entered into the courtyard on horseback. There they dismounted and handed off the horses to two of the Dryden children. The family was responsible for maintaining the Keep. Levi's merchant business had been bustling as of late, and had brought much commerce to the Peak. As far as Loghain knew, the Peak was simply a trading post, not the current base of the Grey Wardens. Merchants cycled in and out of the courtyard with such a wide variety of needs that Aedan managed to sell all the junk they collected on their travels.

The keep prospered- all the better for the funding of Aedan's army.

* * *

><p>Aedan sat alone in the former Warden-Commander's office. The Warden flicked his food with his fork and sighed. He wasn't hungry. He had never realized how much he had taken the concept of hunger for granted. Before he used to just eat till he was full; now he had to estimate he needed to eat. The regular joining, as Avernus had explained to him, bonded the darkspawn taint to the body in such an inefficient way that it required much more energy from the body then it actually needed. In Aedan's case, since this inefficiency had been fixed, he had lost this sense of hunger. Going from Grey Warden hunger to regular people hunger was a tough transition.<p>

To top it off, His sense of taste was all but gone now. Aedan wasn't sure whether it was a side-effect of the mixture or something psychological.

Avernus popped his wrinkled head through Aedan's door. "You should probably eat more."

"Concern? That's almost touching." The Warden placed the meat in his mouth and chewed. Per usual, it tasted like wet paper. He grimaced and swallowed the chunks down.

"What would I do if my prime test subject died?"

"Thus the almost touching," remarked Aedan with a roll of his eyes.

"I'd like to take another sample of your blood, if you don't mind." Avernus drew several vials. Aedan held his hand over a bucket, took out Nan's knife, and sliced the palm. "Careful not to cut your stitches."

Each time Aedan used the ability, it hurt and bled less. It was like muscle training; the more he broke down his body, the stronger it would become when it recovered. So he would do it in little steps, concentrate the taint in his arms and legs and let the power flow through there. Activating the power throughout his entire body is what led to his downfall with Flemeth. Aedan needed to control the power, not let it overrun him. Still, controlling the process proved difficult. Often times Aedan's old scars would open again. Avernus had stitched most of his scars shut to minimize future bleeding.

"Just so you know, your blood isn't going to waste." Avernus's hands glowed and the wound upon Aedan's hand sealed shut. Avernus produced several vials with a sickly green substance inside. "Inside these is an alchemical concoction that should help with the bleeding effect."

Aedan pulled out his spare bandages and wrapped them about his hand. He always kept bandages on hand now."So you figured out how to fix it."

"Not exactly...this is the mixture I used to keep the people I experimented alive just a little longer. I've mixed in your blood to better suit it to your...unique condition. You'll still bleed, but you'll last a bit longer."

"Thanks. Anyways Avernus, I'd like you to head to Redcliffe, so we can meet you there with the Ashes."

"Why must I go help some petty Arl? Get some lesser mage to do it. I have research to do."

"We don't know how or what form this Urn of Sacred Ashes might take. Two hundred years of experience with dealing with curses and forbidden alchemy might give you a better perspective on it."

Avernus crossed his arms and scowled. Aedan sighed and rolled his eyes."I'll give you this." He opened the desk drawer and handed Avernus a letter. "A letter stating you can have my body after I die for your research. Just promise me you'll burn what you don't use."

Avernus beamed at Aedan and clapped his hands together."I will ensure that the burnt remains of your appendix scatters to the winds."

"The thought of it brings a tear to my eye."Aedan pocketed the vials in his knapsack. The door shut behind Avernus. After Aedan had finished his meal, he pulled out the map of Ferelden, spare parchment, ink, and a writing implement. He still had planning to do for his current troops, before he set off with his companions for Haven.

Red circles outlined where the current civil war battles raged on. Aedan grimaced as he thought of the soldiers, fighting under the orders of men they probably never met- the Bannorns and Loghain. No matter how hard they fought, it only resulted in more deaths of innocent Fereldan countrymen. He wondered how Loghain, who claimed to love Fereldan so, could simply slaughter his countrymen.

The current civil war hardly compared to the Orlesian war, but the fact that the various bannorns were fighting against Loghain and not together against the darkspawn had all but guaranteed the fate of the south. Lothering had been amongst the first villages in the south to fall, amongst others.

Loghain had put an embargo on all trading, communication, or visitors from the country of Orlais. Those caught consorting with the Orlesians were marked traitors. Loghain's original sin, the abandonment of his king, had spiraled out of control. To cover it up, he blamed the Fereldan Grey Wardens, and in doing so meant having to refuse the Orlesian Grey Wardens.

There were no more major political powers to speak save for Loghain. Arl Eamon was still ill. Howe had eliminated the Couslands, then launched his smear campaign against the dead family, claiming they had been consorting with the Orlesians. Aedan coldly traced the outline of Denerim with his finger as he contemplated how me might deal with Howe.

Aedan's finger fell upon Westholme. It had been awhile since Aedan had been there. He had never heard from Adair after the veteran had assigned him the task of investigating the village. Aedan grimaced as he noted the crossed out villages next to Westholme. All the surrounding villages had been devoured by the Blight. Aedan did not hold much hope for Westholme, nor for any survivors. Extraction would take too long. The soldiers might get there in time, but the darkspawn would have overrun the area by then. Aedan couldn't afford to lose more soldiers. The sensible villagers who fled lucked out.

_Abandon Westholme. Concentrate on the villages farther north._

Aedan sealed the message up along with several other orders. The south was all but lost. He had no choice to abandon it. Soon the rest of Ferelden would follow. Before that time came, Aedan had no doubt the Archdemon would appear. It's monstrous roar bellowed louder than ever in his dreams. He estimated one, maybe two months, before the beast would come to finish off Ferelden.

Aedan wasn't sure if he was counting down the days he had left to live, or the days till he died.

* * *

><p>Morrigan once again caught herself looking for Aedan. It was a nasty habit that she had to drop. She needed to return to how she once was: uncaring, calm, and collected. She had gotten too close to him. One thing she missed was his company. She would not describe it as constantly entertaining, nor as boring. Instead, she had felt contentment.<p>

Still, now that they no longer spent time together, Morrigan had lost that contentment and now needed a new way to spend her spare time. Her mother's true grimoire had taken a week to translate, and another week to master, thus leaving her with plenty of free time.

Morrigan leaned against the side of the hallway and sighed. What did she used to do to entertain herself? She used to shapeshift and run amongst the animals, but she was a child then. As she had grown older, so had her discontent in the Wilds. She had wanted to see mountains and all sorts of new things instead of the same old swamp. Thus she was exploring the ancient keep. It fascinated her- this old place full of history and touched by the fade.

"Oh, Morrigan," said Leliana, waving the witch over. The bard, the templar, and the qunari sat in the pantry munching on various breads and meats. Instinctively the witch began to turn around to avoid them, but her stomach at the site of food gave a embarrassing growl. The witch glanced at the food and grumbled. It had been awhile since she had eaten.

"So...you and him," said Alistair in an attempt to break the silence. The templar realized what he said and his face went pale. Clearly he shouldn't have been talking about such a sensitive topic.

"What about Aedan?" Morrigan continued to chew down on her food, not looking at any of the others.

"I didn't specify Aedan," said Alistair nervously, trying to salvage his earlier slip-up into a joke," I said 'you and him'. I could have meant you and Zevran. Or perhaps you and Sten. Maybe even you and Avernus- you're both mages, you could get along well."

"Has anyone ever told you how your jokes make them wish the Blight would kill them sooner?" sneered Morrigan.

"Number one, ouch. Number two, I thought things were going well between the two of you."

"Are we idle housewives gossiping while our husbands are away at work? I think not. We are both fine. It was simply a temporary arrangement of pleasure. That is all. I wish to talk no more of it."

Alistair acquiesced to her request and remained silent for several minutes. Finally Leliana broke the silence again by saying,"You have to agree that Aedan's been a little too into his work?"

"The Warden is performing more admirably than ever. He has found purpose," stated Sten. The other two turned to Sten in surprise. He rarely ever spoke up on his own.

"Admirably? All he does is train, manage troops, and help Avernus with his research," said Alistair.

"Exactly." The qunari dug his fork into his meat and cut it into tiny, exact pieces. He methodically put each piece one by one into his mouth, from left piece to right.

After no explanation whatsoever, Alistair sighed and asked."Care to elaborate?"

The qunari waited until he was finished chewing before stating,"No."

"You just know I'm going to bother you until you tell me." Alistair poked the qunari in the rib. The qunari rolled his eyes. The templar spoke the truth.

"In the Qun, we do not have farmers become warriors, nor warriors become farmers," explained Sten, "Each and every member has their purpose. There is no uncertainty in what one must do, only fulfillment. Aedan has found his purpose, and is devoting himself to it."

"Well, Aedan wasn't always a Grey Warden...in fact they recruited him less than a year ago. What was he before that?"

Leliana furrowed her brow in thought. "A soldier? He had to learn to fight somewhere."

"No, he doesn't fight like a soldier. Soldiers are trained to fight in coordination with other soldiers and don't adapt easily to new situations. The Warden is more flexible in his group arrangement," remarked Sten.

"Maybe he was a farmer, Sten," said Alistair with a joking grin.

"I could believe that of you," the qunari shot back.

The templar slouched over his food and grumbled.

While the other three conversed, Morrigan silently mused on her own thoughts of the matter. She knew Aedan had been a noble. He mentioned family as well. In the elven ruins, he had been regretful of...something. Before however she could ponder any further, Morrigan cleared her head of the thoughts. Such frivolous things were unnecessary. Morrigan no longer needed to ponder on him. Love was a weakness, and she need not hold onto such a thing.

* * *

><p>"Thank the Maker you didn't ask me to make those ridiculous shoulder pauldrons," heaved Mikhael as he dragged the rest of the armor out.<p>

"Many Fereldan nobles have forgotten about practicality ever since the Orlesian war." Aedan tallied all the armor pieces whilst inspecting their quality. Aedan was doing final checks before the group head out for Haven. He shivered in the cold Ferelden air.

Despite the rhetoric of "ancient armor is better", Aedan found that the more recently forged, the better. Therefore he commissioned new modified armor. Most armor, for example, was not designed with the intent of killing dragons. For one, they needed to be more mobile. Aedan had to reduce the weight of the armor, as well as make the pieces more modular for flexibility. He had based the designs off of what he remembered of the Grey Warden armor from Ostagar, as well records of the Nevarran dragon hunters.

In addition, Aedan had commissioned several barbed, hook-like daggers with a single hole for rope or wire to be strung through. One of the major concerns Aedan had about facing gigantic creatures was their increased mobility versus his group. The battle with Flemeth had given him insight into what a future battle with the Archdemon might be like. If all worked as plan, Aedan would hook the daggers into the dragon's wings and bind the other end of the rope into ground. While he did not believe the rope would last long, it would be enough to permanently damage the thin membrane that covered the wings if the dragon attempted to fly, and thus prevent further flight.

Aedan glanced at a pile of silver jewelry in the corner of Mikhail's workshop. "You make jewelry too?"

Mikhail shook his head and chuckled."My wife always gets on me to make some to sell. You want some? It's all for women though."

Aedan picked up a silver necklace and rolled the chains about in his fingers. "Don't have someone to give a gift like that to."

Had it been love with Morrigan, or simple infatuation? The woman had not met his eyes nor talked to him in a month. Aedan knew he had been happy with her, but was being happy enough? Aedan was happy drinking scotch, eating a delicious meal, or sleeping in beneath a sunny window. Was his relationship with Morrigan simply something interchangeable with these things? Had the time spent with her been nothing more than a distraction from the void his family's loss left in him? Had Morrigan simply clung to the first person that treated her with respect and compassion, and not because it was Aedan? If it was something greater, then he would have gone after her, or her after him. Fear had outweighed it. Doubt had outweighed it. Whatever it had been, it was weak and uncertain.

Aedan tossed the necklace back into the pile.

* * *

><p><em>Aedan drowsily leaned back in his chair and sighed. He was bored. So very bored. Certainly, his newfound free time would afford him the chance to be with his family more, but his mother was away with Lady Landra, Nan was out at the market, Oren was busy in lessons, and his brother and father were managing the Highever's local government officials in the dining room.<em>

_Aedan rolled over onto his stomach and let his arms hang off the back of the chair. Maybe he should read a book or something._

"_A messenger came by with a letter addressed for you," stated Ser Gilmore from the doorway. Aedan rolled back over and frowned. He usually never got mail. After walking over and retrieving the letter from Ser Gilmore, Aedan opened up the envelope to read the words within. His heart dropped._

_To Aedan,_

_My father is on his deathbed. The doctor's think this is it._

_-Hijaya_

_The world blurred. Aedan's hands shook. He honestly couldn't remember how he got from the living room to the dining room. Had he ran? Had he walked? How long had it taken? He entered into the dining room, where his father and Fergus were busy chatting with some Arls. Aedan silently waved his father over. He noticed his father's expression drop. Had he noticed the sheer look of despair upon Aedan's face?_

"_Aedan, what happened? You don't look good."_

_Aedan quietly handed the letter to Bryce. As Bryce scanned the letter briefly, Aedan stated,"Father, I know you said that we needed to stay out of Denerim for awhile, but I need to go."_

_For the longest time, Bryce contemplated in silence, before saying,"Aedan, that man is still out there. I'm not going to let my son possibly get killed."_

_Without thinking, Aedan blurted out,"Adair isn't going to be an issue, he's somewhere else." His eyes widened at what he had just said. His father narrowed his eyes at Aedan's reaction and the single bead of sweat that dripped down his forehead._

"_Aedan, how do you know that?"_

_Now, pleading, Aedan didn't care what else he said. He needed to do whatever it took to see his friend one last time."Father, I need to go...and Denerim will be safe. I've seen to that."_

_Bryce fell silent for what seemed like an eternity."Alright Aedan, you can go," he whispered._

"_Good, then I'll-"_

"_But I'm coming with you." Bryce placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "And you're going to tell me everything you know."_

_Rarely had _Aedan _ever seen his father with such a serious expression. Aedan paused, gulped, and then answered solemnly, "Alright. I'll tell you everything."_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

And we're back! Sorry for the long wait. Had some other projects I needed to take care of. Sorry if this chapter is a bit scattered, I just needed to get some exposition out of the way regarding the current happenings in the story.

beattiematt7: This chapter definitely has a more ruthless Aedan...hope you enjoy. Don't worry, Kolgrim will be an interesting fight.

Ransor: Sorry for the extra long wait on this chapter!

SgtGinger: Aedan will definately be making a lot more dubious choices in the coming chapters...it's rather interesting for me to write this new aspect of him. Hope you enjoy!

ChocolateTruffles: Aedan's depression and stress will play a big part in the coming chapters, and how he tries to deal with it.

Jarjaxle: There's definately a moment coming up where a lot of his companions will question Aedan's mental state...look forward to it.

KrimzonStriker: I'm not going to say whether or not Aedan spares Loghain, but I'll say this. In trying to save Fereldan from the Blight, and with all the sacrifices he's made, Aedan can certainly understand why Loghain might do what he's done, but this is all theorizing in his head. Once we hit the Landsmeet, Aedan will have to confront Loghain in person and gauge the true motivations of the man, which will play into his final decision.

Guest: Glad to hear you enjoyed it!

Guest: I read your review right as I was writing the part about Weylon...the irony of being strapped into a chair.

GumGumOnigiri: We'll see whether or not Sten actually duels Aedan...the conflict ingame can be solved with words, and Aedan has certainly earned at least a modicum of respect from Sten, as seen this chapter.

O: Yeah, that last chapter was a doozy to write. I really had to nail it down in order to get all the emotional parts right.

577249: Glad to hear you think it's amazing!


	49. Tired

**Part 6: Faith**

_Chapter 49: Tired_

The remains of the roasted deer remained by the crackling fire. For the first time in his life, Aedan did not look forward to eating meat. Without the taste, eating meat was an ordeal. He had to chew it so much, resulting in a mushy, cold feeling in his mouth that would stay for hours.

He had hunted down a nearby deer earlier and the others had eaten most of it. They had left however most of the right thigh for him. They still assumed that he ate as much as usual. Unsure what to do with the remainders, Aedan beckoned over Gregory. His loyal dog eagerly barreled over to Aedan, his tail wagging. Aedan smiled a little and waved the meat in front of his dog. The dog ran in circles in anticipation, with a little drool dripping from his mouth. Aedan tossed the meat up into the air, and his dog lept up to catch it in his mouth. The two continued on like this for awhile, Aedan tossing roasted meat bits and Gregory devouring it, until there was only a small portion of the meat left. Satisfied, Gregory curled up near the fire and drifted off to sleep. Aedan looked upon the dog enviously. No matter how smart mabari were, the dog could not understand the magnitude of the Blight. Gregory could still eat and sleep without worry.

Aedan pulled apart the meat into tiny pieces, then placed it into a water-filled pot. Aedan could tolerate soup. At the worst, it tasted like warm water. He didn't like anything much in it in terms of vegetables or meat, as it felt like swallowing large chunks of medicinal herbs. He kept it simple.

Aedan watched the bubbling pot in silence, leaning his chin on one hand and stirring the pot with the other. With no one else around, Aedan could only hear the boiling water. The warden took a small handful of powder from a sack Avernus had given him and sprinkled it into the clear soup.. The mage had shredded up various plants and materials that would provide Aedan with basic nutrition.

Bowl in hand, Aedan took his first sip. As expected, it tasted like hot water. Aedan tried his best to simply swallow the bits of deer and not chew on them. Aedan downed as much of the soup as he could until he could no longer take swallowing so much deer. He dumped the rest out into the ground; no doubt the medicinal mixture that Avernus had given to him would have tasted beyond foul, but Aedan would not be able to notice anyhow. He doubted that Avernus would have added unnecessary things like basil and parsley.

He was left with simply one small bowl, filled only with broth. As Aedan took a single sip, some of the soup spilled over onto his hand. His spine shivered. That feel of liquid running down his hand...felt so familiar. Aedan could smell blood where there was none.

Aedan couldn't shake the feeling of slick blood dripping down his hands. He slowed his breathing to calm himself. There were times when the littlest thing would trigger Aedan's memories. The sharp edge of a bowl reminding him of a sword slicing against him, or a flickering fire reminding him of the blazing battlefield. He would remember in his mind, and then slowly his body would remember, as it was now.

His muscles tensed, like a mabari preparing to leap at it's attacker. The surface of his soup rippled as he clenched the bowl so hard in his hand that it shook. His eyes darted at the fire, the small campfire that suddenly seemed to blaze like a dragon's breath. Aedan could hear everything; the wind, the blaze of fire, the drums of the darkspawn as they marched, he had to listen to it all, because it was coming, why wouldn't it be coming, he had to get up and fight again and again and agai-

The bowl broke beneath his trembling grip and sliced him on his finger. Blood trickled down his fingers. That warm, familiar feeling, gliding down the side of his finger, dragged Aedan back into reality.

This is what actual blood feels like, he reminded himself. The other thing was just soup. Just soup. Aedan dabbed at the now cold soup that dripped down his arm. He flicked some droplets into the fire. It sizzled and died a little.

Aedan looked over at the tents of others. They had to be haunted by their demons, how could they not? It however seemed inappropriate to bring up such painful memories. Aedan certainly had things he did not remember, and Zevran, being the only one who knew of his past, had the common courtesy not to talk about it. Aedan always avoided mentioning Duncan around Alistair, or Majorlaine around Leliana, or the fall of the Tower to Wynne. You keep these sort of things to yourself, thought Aedan, because if you cannot handle even the memory of a battle, how can you expect to handle the next one?

A familiar rumbling shook Aedan's seat. Shale had returned from her wandering. Ever since Caridin, the golem often spent time alone in silence, as though it was once again the statue from Honnleath.

"Warden, you do not sleep much, do you?" The golem did not choose to sit next to him; it did not need to after all.

Aedan hesitated before answering, "I can't really hide that from you, considering you're awake all the time."

Shale grunted in agreement. The two watched the crackling fire in silence until Shale said quietly, "I miss sleeping."

Aedan blinked his eyes. Never had he heard the golem use the word "miss" in regards to her human life. "Really?"

"My memories are slowly returning, ever since Caridin. I can remember living in the Warrior Caste. We were not treated badly there. We had good beds, good food, and good company."

"Are you tired?"

"Not in the physical sense...but I am fatigued mentally. Everything is just one long day to me. There is something about slumber, that act of letting go and basking in it, which separates the days into tolerable lengths. I miss curling up in a blanket. I miss sleeping in on non-training days- but that is the only thing I miss, do you hear me?"

"I got you, Shale."

"I am a golem, and I greatly prefer it," repeated Shale as though convincing Aedan would convince herself.

"Yes."

"You are no golem. You are tired, but do not sleep. That does not make sense."

"No. Things make less and less sense as times goes by. You of all people should know that."

The golem grunted, "Indeed."

* * *

><p>Rarely had Aedan seen Sten so annoyed, save for the times others teased him about his love for cookies. "Do you truly think we will find these...ashes here?" asked the qunari once again, "All I have seen so far are the practices of madmen."<p>

"It's just a little bit of human sacrifice and crazy villagers trying to attack us," joked Alistair, but Sten glared at him unamused. Alistair shrugged his shoulder and turned his attentions elsewhere.

Sten turned back to Aedan."This is no joke. The Archdemon matches ever closer. The South is all but lost. Yet here we are looking for the ashes of a dead woman. In the time it takes us to follow through on this lead, could we not simply kill this Loghain and command his army?"

To this, Aedan replied,"To win the army, you have to play their little game of petty politics. This is not Qunari. Military strength alone does not mean you can take an army for your own. That already happened once with the Orlesians, I doubt Fereldan would appreciate us doing that. Perhaps with time we could kill Loghain and take the command of the army by force, but the time it takes to do that far exceeds the time to follow up on small lead."

Suspicious that such a thing would be overlooked by the Qunari, Aedan inquired, "You know, if you Qunari are seriously considering invading us, you need to rethink your strategy. You can accomplish far more in a country with a single well-placed politician than an entire army."

The gunari scoffed."Yes...sometimes I forget such a necessity exists for cultures as unorganized as your own." Sten glanced over again at Alistair to make sure he was not listening. He leaned a little bit to closer to Aedan and softly said, "It is why the Qunari have spies placed throughout all countries."

"I wouldn't have thought the Qunari to have spies. You all seem very...forceful. No offense."

"There is a place for all in the Qun, not just my race. We have elves, humans, even dwarves. Our mission is absolute order and peace, and to accomplish this there is place for the weak and wily alongside the strong...like the elf. I personally do not understand such...machinations. I am simply a Sten."

"I am surprised you would reveal such information to me."

"I doubt that you have not guessed it already."

The two grunted at each other in amusement.

"You are a rare type of individual. Wily and strong. My travels through Ferelden were worth it to meet men like you. I have learned much."

"And you as well, Sten. Hopefully the Arishok will be pleased with-" Aedan bit his tongue to keep from talking any further. The mood soured between the two, and Sten returned to his usual silent behavior. Even Sten had personal things he did not wish to discuss: his sword. The Qunari had all but given up on ever finding it, and thus had no hope of ever returning to his homeland. Everyone had their sins to bear, and the two men walking side by side would rather not discuss theirs.

At the end of the path, what looked to be the main chantry lay attached directly to the mountains. It looked like any old Chantry, yet something about it irked Aedan. The way it was so secluded all the way in the mountains; how the cliffside's shadow shrouded the building in darkness. Aedan did not bother knocking on the Chantry doors- instead opting to pull aside the doors himself. Surprisingly they were unlocked; perhaps they had not expected their visitors to ever reach this point.

"Visitors."

The congregation crooked their heads in the direction of Aedan. Some of them scooted backwards in their seats away from him; after all, he was an outsider. Others glared and moved to the edge of their seats, ready to pounce. Armored guards that stood beside the robed man now moved directly into Aedan's path.

"We don't like visitors here. I believe that you've had your share of Haven."

Aedan remained silent, assessing the threat that the people might hold. He quietly signaled the others with his hands to stay on the ready to kill the guards. He scratched his ear, then pointed at the man in the robes, then looked at Alistair. The templar nodded at his signal. Aedan suspected that the robed man might be a mage, like 'Weylon'. The warden never understood the mage's obsession with robes, considering that for men it was simply wearing a gigantic skirt.

Aedan smiled, albeit a little too much in order to hide his suspicions. "I'm sorry, and you are?"

The leader of the congregation stepped forward and looked menacingly at Aedan and the others. "I am this town's revered father."

Confused, Leliana spoke up,"Did you say Revered Father? I would expect you to have a revered mother." Although Leliana had meant no offense, the father scowled at the bard."I would not expect you outsiders to understand. Our village is...non-traditional. We are not bound by the rules of you foolish outsiders."

Leliana crossed her arms and made a sour expression at the man's reply."So I've seen."

"Are you here for a reason, strangers? Our congregation is very private, and we would prefer if we could continue on without interference."

"Can we just kill the crazy people already?" muttered Oghren, his fingers itching to swing his battle axe. Aedan halted Oghren with a gentle wave of the hand. With a single glance at the dwarf, the red-haired warrior begrudgingly shut up.

"I'm real sorry about the intrusion," said Aedan, "I'm just looking for someone."

"There is nobody of note to be found here. Leave."

"Are you sure? He goes by Brother Genitivi."

The father and Aedan stared at one another, knowing that the next sentence would bring the battle. Both of them calculated how to kill the others troops. Aedan, however, had confidence that his team's experience would trump anything the man threw.

"Weylon told me I could find him here."

A look of realization came across as the revered father understood what had happened to his follower. His face contorted in sheer rage.

"Sorry, he never did tell me his name," said Aedan coldly.

"Kill the heretics! Kill them all!" screamed the revered father. Guards stormed out of hidden passage in the walls. They flowed endlessly from an underground stairway. Women, men, and children screamed as they fled from the church chambers out into the village. Aedan's group payed no attention to those fleeing, only to the armed warriors in front of them.

"AVENGE OUR FALLEN BROTHER!"

Lightning crackled at the father's fingertips. Alistair lept forward and outstretched his hand straight into the cone of lightning. An invisible shimmer about his fingers parted the sea of lightning.

Aedan, Sten, and Oghren lept into action, circling about Morrigan and Wynne. The two mages chanted beneath their breaths as bolts of elemental fury flew from their palms. Amidst the storm of magic, Zevran sneaked behind the archers and slit their throats. Their blood sprayed across the horde of brawling fighters. Shale slammed his fists into the ground again and again. The soliders surrounding her stumbled onto their backs. Aedan and the other warriors slammed their blades into exposed necks of the soldiers.

"Kill them! Kill them all!"

Aedan rolled over on his side as a fireball flew over his face. He sprinted at the mage, swept at his legs, and drove his blade into this neck. The father's head rolled onto it's side. The rest of the warriors scattered and fled back into the tunnels from which they came. Aedan could hear the screams of the congregation outside. No doubt they would bring help. He pointed to Sten and Shale."Find something to barricade the doors." Aedan grabbed a bookshelf to blockage the door, when it slide against the wall, and somebody behind it rustled in movement.

"Who is that? Are you one of them?" croaked a voice from behind the wall. With a quick glance, Zevran saw the hidden lever nearby and pulled it. The wall slid away to reveal a malnourished bald man with a broken leg tied up in rope- no doubt the missing Genitivi. Aedan strode over to untie him.

"You can rest easy Brother Genitivi. I'm Aedan, of the Grey Wardens."

"Thank the Maker. I thought...I thought they were going to interrogate me again."

Aedan grimaced at Genitivi's hands as he unbound them- most of the man's fingernails were missing. Wynne immediately got to work on Genitivi's leg. The brother grunted in thanks as he sat himself up.

"Weylon...I heard you outside talking about Weylon, is he alright?"

"He's dead. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Weylon," wailed Genitivi softly, "So young. And what of the knights sent to find me?"

"Dead as well."

Genitivi fell quiet."So much bloodshed," he whispered, "all because of the misguided principles of the few."

They would have time for questions on the walk to the Urn. Aedan offered his hand to Genitivi to help him up. "I'm sorry for being so gruff, but time is of the essence Brother Genitivi. We need to get the Urn- can you take us there?"

"I...yes...just let me catch my breath."

* * *

><p><em>Upon arriving in Denerim, his father had told him his explanation could wait. Time was short for Teharel. By now night had fallen, and Aedan however tired from the travelling and worry.<em>

_Aedan made his way to the Alienage doors through the Denerim Market. His legs were conflicted- should he run as fast as he could to see Teharel? At the same time, Aedan didn't want to see him. Seeing him would cement the fact that Teharel would be dead within the day. He wanted to remember Teharel as his cranky old teacher, constantly berating Aedan and trying to pick a fight with him- but no man lived forever._

_The guards placed in front of the Alienage gate by now remembered Aedan by now, along with other nobles. It was not uncommon for some nobles to have a elven mistresses. It was their release from prim and proper noble life- a quick and dirty roll in the mud for fun. Aedan pondered as he walked through the gates: was I so different? He, who had spent so long cooped in the Cousland estates, had jumped at the opportunity to learn from a drunkard, violent, elf. His father no doubt could have paid for the best teacher money could buy, but Aedan chose Teharel instead._

_He is not some flight of fancy, thought Aedan, I have stood by him through thick and thin, just as he would for me, just as I will again this one last time. He is my friend._

_A more cowardly, or perhaps brighter, fellow would have opted not to take the bank alleys of the Alienage to get where they were going. Homeless elves littered the piss-stained alley walls. Luckily they slept, and no robbers bothered him. Perhaps the sword by his side helped. If there was one thing the last year had taught him, is that he should carry a sword, or Maker forbid he have to fight with alcohol or a wooden plank again._

_He managed to make it to Teharel's apartment right as the rain started to fall. The droplets ran down his sweat slicked hair- partially from sweat, and partially from humid Denerim summer. A red-eyed Hijaya greeted him at the door, wiping away at the corner of her eyes. The young elven woman tried her best to smile, but her downcast eyes and the shadows beneath them told Aedan all he needed to know._

"_Thank you for coming."_

"_How is he?"_

"_Not good."_

_Aedan's lip parted to say the words 'He'll be fine', but he knew better. A soft lie would do no good here. He smiled back at Hijaya and hugged her. The elf snuffled and returned the affection._

_Finally, Aedan turned to face his bed ridden friend. The elderly elf stared back at him, a shadow of the man he had once been. He had lost much weight, and his skin and eyes had yellowed. Besides him were towels flecked with blood. Aedan handed him another towel. The elf's frail hands clasped onto the cloth and gently dabbed at his mouth._

"_Does it hurt?" asked Aedan._

"_Almost as bad as when my leg came off."_

_Aedan sat in silence as Teharel entered another bout of coughing. The baby upstairs began to wail at the noise. Hijaya rushed upstairs to comfort the child. She moved as though in a daze. Aedan had noticed the the bags under her eyes. No doubt taking care of her newborn and dying father had taken it's toll on her. Aedan had always offered to help her family out in terms of money, but Hijaya and Jarat had their pride- they would not accept money they had not rightfully earned. Aedan had to respect their wish to make it on their own._

_Once Teharel stopped coughing again, Aedan handed him another towel."I'm sorry," he said._

_Teharel let out a long, pained groan. "I deserve this," he muttered, glancing to the side._

"_Don't say things like that."_

_His voice barely audible, Teharel croaked through his coughs,"I did terrible things, Aedan. You've probably read those documents by now. You know what I've done."_

"_It was for the greater good."_

"_I still shed the blood of innocents. No matter what reason you kill a person for, it still makes you a murderer."_

_Aedan didn't want his friend dying with so much guilt inside of him. "You've done a lot of good things, then and now," he said, desperately trying to say something, anything, to cheer the man up._

"_It's not so simple...to wipe your slate clean. Doing good things doesn't erase your sins. You're stuck having to carry them forever."_

_A tear rolled down Teharel's cheek. Aedan had never seen the man cry._

"_I'm so tired, Aedan. Tired of dreaming of the men, women, and children I've killed. Tired of this old body filled with all my regret. Tired of all this pain. I just...I just want to go."_

_His voice trembling and uncertain like a child, Teharel asked, "What do you think is going to happen to me...afterwards?"_

_Aedan's heart wavered as he spoke. "I honestly don't know, Teharel. Humans say the worthy go to the Maker's. The dwarves say their spirits return to the Stone. What do the elves say?"_

"_We used believe that before the Dread Wolf shut the gods away from, Falon'Din would guide the dead beyond into the Fade. After that...well, we had to make do with a staff and a twig."_

"_You believe that?"_

_Teharel shrugged and coughed up some more, "Not sure. Seen a guy blaze a man to death with his bare hands- anything's possible."_

"_I've never really thought about it," said Aedan, "In a kind world, I guess we'd go to join our loved ones in death. I imagine it as opening a door, and there sitting at a big dinner table are all the people who've gone before you."_

"_I guess all you really think about is food after all, you pig," smiled Teharel._

"_Shut up, asshole," smiled Aedan back._

_The two chuckled with one another, their foul-mouthed banter reminding them of better times. Their quiet laughter died. Teharel looked down and pondered for a moment. "In a kind world."_

"_In a kind world," repeated Aedan quietly. _

"_You think this is a kind world?"_

"_I think it's a world filled with kind people, like you."_

_The elf smiled sadly at his friend's reply."Never change, Aedan." _

_The elf grabbed at his blanket and pulled it over himself."I think I've had enough for today, Hijaya. I'm going to sleep for the night." He gently closed his eyes and took a deep breath in._

_Hijaya rubbed her eyes eyes tiredly and turned to Aedan."We don't have a spare bed, but we do have a spare blanket. You're free to spend the night." She pulled out a spare ragged blanket from within her crooked drawers and handed it to Aedan._

"_Thank you," smiled Aedan. The young man situated himself by the window. He had always liked seeing the stars as he went to bed. Aedan lay his head down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hijaya standing by Teharel and watching him. _

"_Good night dad."_

"_Good night sweetheart. Love you."_

"_Love you too," whispered Hijaya. The woman glanced upstairs to where her baby was but hesitated to leave. Instead she pulled over a chair and sat by her father's side._

"_Do you want me to hold your hand as you go to sleep? Like when you were little?" coughed Teharel._

_Hijaya smiled a little."That'd be nice."_

_As Aedan drifted off to sleep, laying on the dirty floor of the elven hovel, it reminded him of that blurry, hungover morning when he had first awoken to meet his grouchy old friend. _

_The next morning, Aedan awoke to Hijaya clutching her father's limp hand, sobbing._

* * *

><p>Moisture dripped from the cavern walls. The cold mountains outside had fostered ice cold cavern walls, but the flames of cultists and drakes produced enough heat to melt the icicles hanging above. Genitivi had gotten them into the main temple, and from there Aedan and his group had ventured deep into the caverns below.<p>

From what Aedan had seen of their attackers, they were not a cannibalistic cult. Granted, Aedan still wasn't sure whether or not they ate people, but it seemed they focused on worshipping the drakes and dragons. Aedan remembered his conversation with Avernus about dragon cults and how it might stabilize his ability- but that thought was stuffed in the back of his mind as he saw a rather large group approaching.

The man in front, clad in majestic ancient armor, shook with anger. "Halt now stranger, and tell me why you slaughter my children!" He raised his hand and the cavern shook with his booming voice. Such a pity, thought Aedan, since this voice was well suited for the sermons of a Chantry. He did not slither like a scoundrel, nor sound scornful like the father they had encountered hours before. He had a solemn, brutal, resolute demeanor about him. This must be the leader of the cult, thought Aedan to himself.

"They're attacking us," explained Aedan, still gripping his sword, "and have shown themselves to be murderers and torturers of the innocent."

"You, along with these so called 'innocents', invaded our village. We warned you to leave, and you could have done so. Now you face the consequences."

"We nor the others came this village to harm you. We he only come here to save a good man, upon whom the fate of Fereldan hangs. Do not think that your village is safe from the Blight."

The cult leader raised his chin up and looked down upon Aedan from the jagged rocks he stood upon. He sheathed his axe, and his men followed. He waited in silence, until Aedan understood it to mean that he and his group should follow. Aedan sheathed his sword and the others followed. "I am Father Kolgrim. You are the Warden, are you not?"

"I am."

"Even we have heard much about you. They say you have fought demons and other mystical creatures alike."

"To kill the Archdemon, no foe will stand in my way...not even you. Move aside and allow to retrieve the Ashes, and we shall be gone for good."

"The ashes, you are here for the ashes?" Kolgrim stroked his beard. "Yes, yes, perhaps Andraste's greatest sinner can redeem himself and become her greatest champion."

"What are you talking about?"

"I speak of our prophet Andraste of course. She has been reborn."

"Reborn? You've seen this?"

"Indeed. She is even more beautiful than anything I could have imagined- so powerful and awe-inspiring." Kolgrim closed his eyes and imagined whatever it was he thought Andraste was now. Aedan saw the utter faith in the man's eyes and smile. He needed to tread carefully.

"But her rebirth is not yet complete. Still the remains of her mortal body shackle her from ascending to her final form." Kolgrim jumped down from the jagged rocks. The ground shook more than it should have for a man of his weight. Kolgrim smiled at Aedan."Tell me, Warden, how would you like power?"

Aedan leaned back, crossed his arms, and smiled back.

"I'm listening."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes:<strong>

So sorry for the late update. Uni just ended for the year and I just moved into my new sublet and transitioned to new job. Bad news- two hour public transit commute. Good news- that means four hours where I have nothing else to do but write! The next few chapters are already done and are undergoing revisions. I just wanted to get this one out there as it is the last of the setup chapters before the meat of this arc. Hopefully Faith will be finished by end of June, and the next part, Strength, will begin in July.

GumGumOnigiri: Interesting way to think about it compared to Grunt and Shepard. To me though Sten is less of an uncontrollable force than Grunt, and more of a strict soldier- the title of Sten is a soldier, a cog in the machine. His job is war and it has worked so far for the qunari in taking over lands. To deviate from what has worked for the qunari, what has worked for his entire life, is an idea so foreign to him that unless he is following a leader he trusts, he will question such a decision.

Brochacho: A very enthusiatic review, thank you very much. As for whether it'll be a happy ending...I've had the ending in mind and the exact sentence I've wanted to end the series on for the past few years. It puts a nice bow on everything, I'll leave it at that. Telling you anything more would take the suspense out of everything.

Guest: Thanks for liking the character development. There'll be plenty more for Aedan, as well as a few others, as well.

SgtGinger: It has been a lot more fun to write Aedan doing darker things, if not simply because I've written him being a good guy for so long.

See you all in a couple of days!


	50. Tombs

**Part 6: Faith**

_Chapter 50: Tombs_

_Two alienage elves whispered to each other and watched the front entrance of the Alienage."The Keeper will be here shortly to begin the ceremony."_

_"I didn't expect a Dalish Keeper to come out here. Seems rather unusual for a Alienage elf."_

_"Did you not know? Teharel used to be a Dalish warrior, and a very distinguished one. His clan might not be in the area, but any other clan would be obligated to perform his funeral rites."_

_"What do you think the Keeper will think about…"_

_The two elfs huddled closer and whispered, "the shem?"_

_Their conversation, though quiet, still reached Aedan's ears. Aedan crossed his arms and stayed put against the wall. Hijaya and Jarat waited beside him beneath the little shade Hijaya's apartment afforded them. The summer heat beat down upon all those outside. On any other day, Aedan might enjoy such weather._

_A robed bald elf strode in the Alienage. He, unlike his Alienage brethren, stood up tall and straight. He walked slowly and in long steps, observing the squalor his brethren lived with a raised eyebrow. Once he reached the Alienage tree, he paused and held his hand up against it. He glanced upwards at the flourishing leaves and smiled. The elder of the Alienage greeted the Keeper with a handshake. The Keeper bowed his head quietly, clasped the elderly elf's hand with both of his, and smiled back. The elder pointed at Hijaya and the Keeper strode forward._

_"I am Zathrian. Though Teharel did not belong to my clan, he was still a very distinguished Dalish. His request for a traditional funeral is within his rights, I shall ake sure your father is put to rest."_

_Hijaya smiled sadly and nodded her head in thanks. Zathrian glanced at Aedan with accusatory eyes. "Before we proceed, I would ask why a shemlen is here." He scowled at the young noble. "This is not some spectacle for you to watch. This is a funeral."_

_Aedan stared at him blankly. "I am here to mourn, the same as everyone else."_

_"Please Keeper, Aedan was my father's student- he asked that Aedan be one of those to dig the grave."_

_Zathrian bowed his head again, "If that is what the deceased wished, then I will not refuse. Such a role in the proceedings is a honor reserved for only the closest family and friends. I apologize."_

_"There is no need. If I were in your shoes, I would have viewed me with just as much suspicion."_

_"I do not need to be patronized, human. Let us make haste. I apologize young lady, but my clan is moving location soon."_

_Aedan stepped back inside of the house. Teharel's body lay on the bed, wrapped in a rough canvas tarp. He and Hijaya's husband moved the body onto a rickety stretcher. From there, they proceeded out into the Alienage and down to the exit of Denerim. A line of Alienage elves followed them in finer clothing that was still slightly torn and dirtied._

_In contrast to it's dirty, run down buildings, the forest near the Alienage grew with bustling saplings and lush green leaves. While certainly not as grand as a nobleman's garden, the forest had a serene beauty to it- nothing had been arranged, and there were no bright flowers of pink or yellow- only the deep green and oak brown. Away from chaos of the city, you could hear the breeze gently rustling the leaves._

_Near the edge of the forest, Zathrian stopped at a clearing. He pushe dhis foot down on the soil to test its firmness. Next he knelt down, took a pile of the dirt in his hands, and sniffed it. As he took a deep breath in, he let the dirt slowly sift through his fingers back onto the ground._

_"We shall plant it here."_

_Zathrian motioned to Aedan and the others to dig. He, Jarat, Hijaya, and several others dug a medium depth hole in the ground with shovels. The summer heat did not make their job easier. Sweat rolled down Aedan's neck and stained the back of his shirt._

_Once the hole had been dug, Aedan and the others took hold of Teharel's body. As Aedan gripped the canvas that his friend was wrapped in, he realized this was the first time he was handling a dead body. He hoped that it would be his last._

_The group gently hoisted the body down into the hole. Zathrian knelt down and lay a staff and branch atop Teharel's body._

_Zathrian took a single seed from his pouch and placed in on the ground. Using his hands he shaped a small mouth around it. He stood back up and gripped his staff. Zathrian hummed indecipherable elven words under his breath as he sprinkled some powder onto the mound. He then took the end of his staff and circled it around the mound. Aedan felt the air constrict and staff glowed with faint green aura. The buds of the sapling peeked up from beneath the mound._

_"I have started your father on his journey. The rest is up to him. May he rest in peace."_

_Zathrian bowed his head before the sapling, as well as all the others. Hijaya let the tears drip down her face and soak into the soil. Pain swelled up behind Aedan's eyes. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry. Aedan had not known such sadness in his life; he had never lost someone like this before. He rubbed his eyes to keep the tears from coming. Aedan looked sadly one last time at the sapling, then turned away._

* * *

><p>"Do not tell me you are considering doing this."<p>

Aedan turned to Leliana, who stared at him with indignant fury. Like a incensed animal, Leliana kept her distance while still hovering over him, observing him as though he were a threat."Depends," he answered calmly.

"Depends on what? This is the Urn of Sacred Ashes! This is a relic of the Chantry, a symbol of hope for the people, a-"

"This is what they think is the Urn of Sacred Ashes. You've seen these people. They're crazy. They think a giant flying dragon is what if it turns out these "Ashes" is just a jar of dust? Or just the bones of some dragon they thought was Andraste before this new one? It wouldn't hurt to put dragon's blood in there."

Leliana frowned and took a deep breath to calm herself. "Tread carefully, Aedan," said Wynne with a firm grip on her staff. Instead of her usual sage tone, the faintest hints of a threat resonated in her words. Aedan eyed her grip, then looked back at Wynne.

"I make no decision lightly," he replied back. Wynne warily turned back to the path before him. What seemed like a simple grab and go now seemed to have become far more complicated. When no one was looking, Aedan quickly took a swig from his flask. He just needed to take the edge off of the stress. He didn't want to think about if he had to kill Wynne and Leliana over a misunderstanding. He licked his lips and sighed before taking another swig. Just one more.

Shale pushed aside the massive doors of the temple and the group entered. They all stared in wonderment at the interior; intricately decorated with fine carvings and marble. The temple within far exceeded what the caverns beneath would have suggested. This part of the mountains went untouched by the cultist. An armored man with full beard and deep set eyes stared at them, leaning on his sword. His pupils glowed with an eerie energy.

"Greetings pilgrims," he echoed, his voice rumbling through the chamber.

"You are the guardian of this temple I assume," asked Aedan. "Will you let us pass?"

"I am here to test those that would use the Urn," echoed the Guardian once again.

"Test? Like combat?"

"I am here to test the worthiness of an individual, and the strength of their resolve. No man or woman comes here without a purpose, but it is up to the Gauntlet to determine whether such a purpose is deserving of the Ashes."

No wonder the cultists couldn't get in here, thought Aedan. He doubted human sacrifice made the list of acceptable behaviors the Maker allowed. "If such a test would filter out the unworthy anyways, then why have the Ashes remained hidden for so long?"

"Originally, the people of Haven were known as the Disciples of Andraste. They were the ones who first brought her ashes and and built this temple in her honor, I among them. As the years went on, their children took on their job, and their children's children- but even in the greatest of light darkness can sprout.

The dragon came. And for those who were simply taught to believe and protect in Andraste for so many years, the appearance of a mighty dragon at her doorsteps seemed to them a sign. The dragons are far more intelligent than meets the eye. Having almost been hunted to extinction by humans once before, they task their former enemies to protect their young from others. In exchange, the dragon allows them to feast upon a select few of their young and drink of their blood. A dragon's blood is a fearful thing.

A man named Kolgrim spread his lies and filth throughout the village, killing those who did not share his beliefs."

"So these people...which of them are cultists, and which are the original Disciples?"

"It is hard to tell. Some truly believe Kolgrim's words. Others simply follow out of fear." The guardian looked at Aedan solemnly. "Do you plan on killing them?" he asked with sadness in his echoing voice. Aedan scratched the side of his sword.

"If I have to kill them."

"You do not have to do anything. You want to do something."

"I don't want to kill them."

"Then you want something else."

"I want to make sure they don't kill anymore."

"Does that mean you have to kill them?"

"It is safer that way."

"So you will kill all of them?"

"I'm not sure." On the one hand, the casualty count of the Disciples numbered only in the double digits. If the Guardian told the truth, then most, if not all, of these people did not know any better; they were raised believing that this was the way to live. They did not know better. If Aedan had not had his parents to teach him better, he would not have ended up as well off as he was. Still, if he had to kill them to save others, then he would.

"So you will kill with an unsure blade?"

Aedan clicked his tongue in irritation. "Enough of your word games, spirit. If you wish to judge me, then judge me. If you wish to punish me, then punish me- but if you are here to stand in my way, I suggest you move."

The guardian smiled at Aedan's statement, though it was a threat."Such ferocity. You were not always like this. The path that led you here has been long and dark, filled with pain and regret, for every person here." The spirit passed his gaze over each and every member of Aedan's party. "I would ask you all a question before you enter."

The guardian did not wait for them to approve of his request. He turned first to the towering qunari. For once, Aedan saw a bead of sweat drip down the giant's forehead.

"To Sten, you came representing your face in Ferelden. By murdering an innocent family, do you believe you failed your people by allowing them to be seen in that light."

The side of the qunari's mouth twitched."I never said I did not fail."

Nodding in approval, the guardian then turned to the next companion."To, Wynne, do you sometimes think that you have only become an arm of the chantry, spouting platitudes and lies to subdue the mages?"

Ever the wiser, Wynne crossed her arms and answered with terse smile, "You ask questions you know the answers to, spirit. I doubt myself sometimes, yes. Only a fool is sure of himself."

Next the guardian stepped forward and pressed his hand against the stone skin of the golem. He paused for a brief moment and closed his eyes. Once he opened them, he looked up at the golem. "To Shale, I cannot gleam much from you. Your's is a soul long lived and filled with pain. Your entire life is a test, and I greatly respect your endurance."

"No questions for me then? Lovely,"retorted the golem.

"To Zevran, of all the people you have killed, do you regret the death of the woman called-"

"Yes, yes I do," interrupted Zevran quickly, with a sad stare in his eyes. "Let us not talk about it."

"To Oghren, you left your home for the surface and-"

"I'll save you some time spirit," snarled Oghren, "Yes, I wish I could have saved my family from Branka. Yes, I wish I could have stopped her from going. Yes, I wish I had been a better mate. And yes, I came to the surface because I'm barely a dwarf anymore. My honor is gone, my family is dead, my caste is erased, and I have nothing left to lose."

The Guardian paused briefly at the answer. Perhaps such honesty was unexpected. He turned to Leliana.

"To Leliana, you know that the Maker has left. He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself your equal?"

"I never said that, I-"

"In Orlais you were someone, here in Ferelden you were nothing but a simple sister. When you attempted to state your visions, the other in the cloiser looked upon you with disapproval- but you reveled in the attention, however negative it was."

"What- that is not true!" stated Leliana indignently. Her cheeks had gone slightly red. The guardian, finished with Leliana, turned to Morrigan.

"Daughter of Flemeth-"

Morrigan scowled and waved the guardian off. "Begone spirit, I will not play your games."

Without a shred of anger in his expression, the guardian moved next to Alistair. "Alistair, of the Grey Wardens, student of Duncan. You wonder what would have happened if you had been there on the battlefield, if you had taken the killing blow instead of him."

Alistair looked down at the ground and grimaced. "I do...it would have been better if he lived instead f him. He was the better Warden, and we would have been better off. But I can't change what's happened, can I?"

"To the Warden- you have made countless decisions that have necessitated the sacrifice and suffering of others. Do you regret the path you have chosen?"

"I am pained by them, but I would make those decisions and sacrifice those men and women all over again. I did what I had to."

"And what of the sacrifice that pains you the most? Of that fiery night in Highever? Knowing what was in store for them, do you believe you should have stayed with your pa-"

"I told you spirit," growled Aedan, "that I am pained by them. I made the best decision I could that night." But as an after thought, the Warden whispered quietly, "But there is not a day that goes by I do not wish I could have saved them."

The ancient man glanced at Aedan and nodded. "Enter pilgrims." The spirit faded away into nothingness, leaving an open doorway behind him. Each one of his companions warily entered into the chamber. Aedan glanced at each and everyone, at the anxious feeling of regret stirred up within them by their individual questions.

Aedan wondered on his companions regrets, particularly Alistair's. How would it have been different if Duncan had been by his side instead of the Templar? No doubt Duncan would have taken charge. He would have been the leader, the decision maker. He would have carried the heavy burden that Aedan felt crushing him. Would Duncan have felt so tired and unhappy carrying that weight, unlike Aedan? The Rivaini man had been hardened through countless battles. All Aedan had been was a noble, who simply stumbled into trouble and barely made it out.

Aedan tried to imagine his journey without Alistair. Though they had had their differences of late regarding Harrowmont, the man had always been with Aedan through thick and thin the last year. He tried to imagine his life without the templar's little quips. Perhaps Alistair never knew it, but those jokes always lightened Aedan's burdens. For just a brief moment he forgot that he was fighting, and instead he felt like he did with his brother, Fergus, and the rest of his family- like he was living.

But the time for jokes had ended.

* * *

><p>Oghren snorted as he brushed off some dust from his armor."So, riddles, a bridge, and some ghosts? I'm telling you, if this how your Maker tests the worthy, maybe I'll just up and convert."<p>

Leliana glared down at the dwarf. "That's not funny."

"Oh, you're just mad because that Guardian fellow called you an attention seeker."

Leliana scowled and ignored the dwarf. As they entered the next chamber, Oghren shivered and yelped. "Strong scent. The lyrium here is stronger than anything I've ever encountered, and it keeps getting stronger towards the end of the temple. I don't know what we're going to find at the end here, but if it's been taking the brunt of this lyrium radiation, for all intents and purposes it could heal your Arl."

"Good," grunted Aedan, "We need this." He looked forwards down the dark hallway that lay before them. Unlit candles hung from alongside the ancient stone walls. At the end if the long hallway, Aedan could make out a solitary man, shrouded in the shadows of the chamber. The light of the candles lit up one by one as Aedan and the others passed by them.

Oghren clenched his axe between his two hands and growled, "Oi, I thought we were the only ones here."

Though much more light filled the chamber then before, Aedan still could not make out the man's face. He did not seem armored, like the Guardian or Kolgrim. Just to be safe, Aedan gripped his sword tight. "Maybe it's another-"

The final candle illuminated, revealing the man's face for all to see. Aedan's sword clattered to the ground as he stared slack-jawed.

"-ghost."

He looked much like Aedan, but with greying hair and wrinkles at the edge of his eyes. He smiled warmly at the sight of Aedan. That face- Aedan had almost forgotten that face. It had only been a year but he had almost forgotten it. The man smiled just the way Aedan remembered- full with his entire face, like he had just heard a good joke.

For the longest time, Bryce Cousland and Aedan Cousland stared back at one another.

Alistair tapped Aedan on the shoulder,"Aedan, who is that, he looks a lot like yo-"

"You think this is funny? Showing me this?" growled Aedan to the whatever forces inhabited the room. He turned his head back and forth, furiously searching for the Guardian. "Do my memories amuse you spirit? Do you like peering into my head that much?" He turned back to the specter before him. "Answer me!"

"You wanted to see me, pup."

"Do not call me that!" The inside of Aedan's helm rattled, taking him by surprise. He had not meant to shout so loudly. He strode towards the apparition. "He called me that. You are not him."

"I know you miss me so. I know you miss all of us so."

"Stop talking like you are him." His voice wavered. The spirit sounded so much like his father. Aedan wanted so much to believe that the specter before him truly was the man that had raised him. However, the spirit looked at Aedan and knew what he was thinking. It shook it's head and said to him,"You carry so much regret and sorrow. Why can you not be happy?"

Aedan hesitated, and his voice quieted so the others could not hear him. He leaned into the spirit's ear and whispered, "I cannot sleep. I cannot enjoy food or any of the other pleasures life has. The battles I have been through haunt me when I do not fight. So what else is left for me to do but fight? At the very least, I can fight for someone else's happiness."

Bryce looked at his son sadly."Then aren't you just running away from your own problems? You cannot simply ignore the feelings and burdens you carry by numbing yourself with battle. A man can only carry so many things, Aedan."

Aedan was tired, so very tired. He just wanted to lay down and sleep. He just wanted to go back to his bed in Highever and sleep. The presence of his father's image made him feel like a young boy once again. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do?" he asked meekly.

Bryce smiled and patted Aedan's arm."Let go, pup."

The specter faded into dust, leaving Aedan feeling more burdened than before. Aedan still felt a little warmth where the specter had patted him, even though it was physically impossible through his armor. Aedan stood there in silence, trembling. He kept looking at where the specter had been, hoping that it would reappear. He just wanted to see that face one more time, even for one more second.

Alistair placed his hand on his friend's back."Aedan-"

Alistair's gesture broke Aedan's reverie and the warden instinctively brushed away the hand."I don't want to talk about it," he whispered, "Please understand."

The group moved on quietly into the final chamber. There, at the end of the long room, stood an altar of Andraste, and at feet lay the Urn. Wynne and Leliana stood breathless. Aedan strode forward and grumbled under his breath. "Let's get this damn thing and go-"

Fire erupted in front of him and Aedan leapt backwards and drew his sword. The shock sent his heart racing and he struggled to calm down as he pointed his sword at the fire. He took a few moments to take deep breaths in before he heard the booming voice of the Guardian from behind the wall.

"Cast off the trappings of the worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight."

"So by laid bare...do you mean naked?" shouted Aedan into the chamber. Aedan took the ensuing silence as a yes. "Just checking."

Zevran inched towards the blazing wall and held his hands before it. He skipped backwards at the intense heat."That is fire."

"I can see that, Zevran."

"It is simply...are we really going to walk through that naked?" asked Zevran, scratching his head nervously.

Ignoring the assassin's reluctance, Aedan signaled to the rest and stated,"Wynne, Morrigan, prepare for the worst."

He and the others began to strip. The warriors unstrapped their armor and let it crash to the floor. Leather crinkled as the rogues unbuckled their form fitting outfits. The mages had it far easier- all they had to do was simply take of their cloth outfits.

Aedan did not like this. He had been naked and bare before, as a child taking baths, as a man with his lovers, but not like this, not after the fight with Flemeth. Ever since he had taken Avernus's mixture, his body would not heal properly. No one had seen how all his scars had reopened, and how many new ones he had made. No one had seen when he could not sleep in the Keep, and would then train in the basement at night until his body bled. No one had seen how Avernus had stitched his scars shut, leaving him looking like patch work.

He did not want to be laid bare, for anything to be revealed. To show weakness meant to acknowledge it, and to acknowledge it meant he had it. Aedan could not have weakness. He was the Warden. The Warden had to kill the Archdemon. That was who he needed to be.

Aedan proceeded to strip down naked whilst the others were as well. Perhaps while they attempted to strip as nonchalantly as possible, they would not notice him. Aedan pulled his shirt over his head and placed it by his armor. Taking a deep breath, Aedan quickly unwound the countless bandages that covered his body.

"Maker, what the hell happened to you, Aedan!"

Damn it Alistair, he thought. He turned backwards to see the rest of his companions glancing at him with a shock in their eyes. Alistair gaped at him, horrified. Thick stitches and almost open wounds lined his back. They had not been done with thin, almost invisible fiber like most- Avernus had take thicker, higher strength fibers to make sure the wounds did not reopen. Former burns still remained scorched upon his back.

"It's nothing," muttered Aedan quietly as he pulled off his pants.

"Like hell it's nothing! Aedan, is this from Fle-"

"I said it's nothing. Now leave it," said Aedan, raising his voice. He saw Morrigan looking at him strangely, and turned away quickly before he could ascertain what emotion had befallen her face. He didn't care if it was worry or pity or whatever it was the witch felt. Of all people, he had not wanted Morrigan to see the stitches.

"Did he always have that many scars?" whispered Alistair to Morrigan. Rarely the templar would speak to the witch, but he knew she had been the one in charge of his healing.

"Not when Mother and I took you two in," replied Morrigan quietly, still staring at Aedan's scar covered back.

Naked and exposed, Aedan walked up to the wall of fire that blocked his way forward. Aedan did not fear this fire. He had faced far worse fires, and far worse enemies. He had been mauled by werewolves, barraged by demons, smashed by golems, and stabbed and sliced and wounded countless of times by darkspawn.

Aedan did not fear this fire. If there was one thing he feared, it would be the quiet moments after this where he would sit alone with his thoughts. He feared having to eat another tasteless meal with cold, hard to chew meat. He feared having to lay awake at night, tired but unable to sleep.

Aedan did not fear this fire.

He plunged straight through the fiery wall. Much to his surprise, it did not feel warm at all. He turned back to his companions, and through the wall they saw him nod once. Each and everyone followed him without questions through the fiery blaze.

Once everyone had lept through, the fire dissipated and the Guardian materialized from behind them. "You have proved yourself worthy, pilgrims. Take a pinch of the ashes, and know that the Maker blesses you on your journey." Despite the Guardian humble smile, Aedan still did not feel rather comfortable standing around naked. He quickly grabbed his clothing and hastily stuffed his legs through his underpants and trousers. Once his shirt was over his head, Aedan looked over at the altar of Andraste and made his way towards there.

Compared to the grander golden statues of the prophet housed in the Denerim chantry, this one seemed like it belonged from a smaller, poorer village as it was smaller and made from stone. Aedan liked the statue though. The craftsmen had made the face so lifelike, that if Andraste had existed, Aedan imagined her to look exactly as the statue. In the Denerim chantry, her face was too beautiful, too perfect. Someone had smoothed every wrinkle and given her perfect proportions. Yet this statue had chips and wrinkles and imperfections, as though the man who crafted it had the real woman's face in mind and sought to make it as she was, not as he wished her to be.

Even he was not a particularly religious man, Aedan still nodded once before the statue before proceeding up the steps. He saw from behind him Leliana and Wynne staring in reverence of the sight of the Urn.

He gingerly brushed his finger along the side of the Urn. If it was thousands of years old, Aedan could not tell.

As though on command, a breeze of wind turned his vision slightly to the right, where a small pouch lay upon the floor. Aedan gingerly took a pinch of the ashes and placed it into the pouch. The edges of his fingers tingled as though they were on fire, though it was a warm, soothing feeling. A little of the ashes lingered on his fingers. He gingerly flicked them back into the Urn. If it were any other dust, he would have wiped it off onto his clothing, but for some reason the Ashes felt as though they were as warm as another person themselves. Who knew- perhaps the spirit of Andraste did live on in them, or perhaps the lyrium had imbued it with such power.

Aedan felt the vial of dragons blood within his pocket as he stored the ashes. If he did not corrupt the Ashes now, no doubt Kolgrim would come to kill them, along with his pet dragon. After all the cultists were dead, the ritual for imbuing the dragon's blood would be lost.

Aedan had no proof that the Ashes would cure the Arl. He had to have faith it would. And if he had even an iota of faith in these Ashes, then he could not taint them. There would come a time where another good man might need to be healed. The dragon's blood could stabilize his newfound ability, but was he not going to die anyways? What use was more power to one man for a few more months, than whole lifetimes gained from the healing of men?

Perhaps if I could be saved from the Archdemon's death...no...even if I could be saved, I would still do this, thought Aedan, and not solely because I wish for other men to be healed. I will fight the Archdemon to the bitter end with everything I have. I will push my body to it's utmost limits so that with my dying breath both of us will fall. Then I can finally go home and sleep. That will be my reward.

As Aedan turned away from the altar with ashes in hand, he wondered something. If the Guardian could reach that deep into his mind, he had to have known he met Kolgrim and considered his offer. He had to have known Aedan had the dragon's blood in his pocket the entire time. Despite all that, the Guardian said not a word and allowed Aedan near the Urn.

Aedan smirked at the small irony. Perhaps the spirit had faith in Aedan.

* * *

><p><em>Author's notes<em>

Wow! Not a month! Only more two more chapters to go in this part. As always, feel free to review, leave constructive criticism, or leave comments. Hope yo uenjoyed and see you in a week!

beatiematt77: I think you're referring to Adair, who is not an elf, but still Aedan's sort of teacher/enemy-ish person. Last we saw of him, he was headed off towards his death, but no confirmation on that yet. However, if you're interested in seeing the two parts crossover, remember that we're headed to Denerim next, where the most of action in the flashback story has taken place, so definitely expect some familiar faces to show up.

Jarjaxle: As you saw in the temple, the past catching up to Aedan only served to aggravate him. I've tried to write him as a very private person, so when his secrets are let out, he's very uncomfortable with that. He's tired, unhappy, and now a little pissed. He's at the end of his rope. Look forward to next chapter to see that come to a head.

Guest: Well, we did see that Aedan had some countermeasures for dragons whipped up, so…

Guest: Thanks for the compliment, was going for a dark fantasy feel.

Guest: Thanks for waiting! Hopefully next chapter will be even better.

Ericboy: Unfortunately, no urn defiling here. We'll get to see Aedan let loose though next time.


	51. Solitary

**Part 6: Faith**

_Chapter 51: Solitary_

The first time the witch noticed Aedan could not sleep was after he killed Majorlaine. The cold had woken her. She peeked out of her tent to see where the sun was. Instead she saw Aedan stoking the fire alone. She thought nothing of it then.

The second time was after the elven ruins. She had seen him fall on his knees and vomit on the ground, disgusted by his own actions. Afterwords in the tent, he said very little and instead took her from behind, never facing her the entire time. Morrigan enjoyed it when Aedan got a little rough, but something was off that night. Was it how she felt as he left wordlessly as she lay panting on her side? Was it that faint smell of elven vodka, sharp and pungent, that lingered on his breath as he had breathed down her neck?

Ah, she thought, see. He is just like other men. This is simply sex- a way to release his pent up aggression and relieve his stress. He is just using me, and I him.

Little by little, Morrigan watched as Aedan slept less and less. After the night Harrowmont died, she did not see him sleep for two days. Each decision weighed heavier- but why should she talk about it to him? Clearly he wanted to keep it a secret, as he did the rest of his life. What was the point in prying if the man would not tell anything about himself? Words would not change what he had done or how felt.

Ah, she thought, see. He is just like other people. He has his secrets that he will not share, he has his own agenda. Even I do not dare share my greatest secrets.

Then came the night they had to kill Flemeth. She had heard him shout at the others and how he had stood up to defend her. He had acknowledged her secrets and disregarded their presence. The Archdemon, at least, was a threat known. With her mother, Aedan had no idea what he would face. He dared to face the unknown abyss for her.

Ah, she had thought, her hand hovering over her heart as something painful and sweet passed through it, perhaps he is not like other men. She felt the same fluttering pain as she later held her hands over Aedan's heart as he lay bandaged in her tent, cold and bloodied as a corpse. The only sign he still clung to life beat weakly against Morrigan palms. She could not bear it. She did not want to bear it.

It was far easier to push her feelings down, to not talk of the things she had seen or felt. It was far easier to push him away that night than to confront her own feelings- because it was a weakness, those feelings. They made you tremble, they made you smile and forget the looming danger, and they made the inevitable departure from each others lives that much more painful. To acknowledge the feelings meant that you had them, and if you had them then you were weak. And this was not a life were you could afford to be weak- for this was not a kind world.

Morrigan still felt that sickening pang in her heart as she watched Aedan take another swig from his flask. He barely ate food anymore. One time he had left his soup bowl afterwards laying by the fire, and the witch had taken a sip. It tasted terrible, like someone had mixed in dirt, plants, and burnt meat.

Morrigan looked away at the mountainside. She had always wanted to see the mountains- majestic natural wonders that touched the very edge of the sky. Morrigan could do nothing. She and Aedan had had stopped talking altogether. Though the mountain was much farther off, as Morrigan glanced back at Aedan, it did not seem like the farthest object in the distance.

* * *

><p>Aedan put away his flask and wiped his mouth against the leather palm of his gauntlet. He savoured those soothing sips of alcohol- just enough to take the edge off. Maybe just one more, he thought as he brought the flask again to his mouth. Aedan shook the metal flask a little- he still had about half.<p>

"I like the way you think, Warden. All these spirits and lyrium give me the creeps," grunted Oghren. The dwarf clutched at his own flask and guzzled down his booze with much noise.

That's not why you drink, thought Aedan, thinking back on the words Oghren had told the Guardian. Oghren had run from his failures and left behind the shattered ruins of his old life. There was no one here who knew him as the failure Oghren, or the husband of Branka, or any other former name. Oghren was running, just like him. Here's to you Oghren, he thought, your journey's going to be a hell of a lot longer than mine. Have fun.

Aedan gripped his sword as he saw the figures of Kolgrim and his armored men looming in the wide courtyard outside the temple. He didn't even try to hide his intentions as he drew his shield as well and motioned to his companions to arm themselves. Kolgrim nodded to his guardsmen, who raised their pikes at Aedan and the others. "Did you destroy the Ashes, stranger?" His voice was quiet but heavy.

"Something tells me you already know the answer," said Aedan with sword outstretched.

"Andraste has not yet ascended as she should, therefore the ashes were not destroyed. You have betrayed us." Kolgrim grimaced and stared back at aedan.

Aedan remained silent. He took one long deep breath in, savouring the cold, fresh mountain air. The quiet right before a battle always calmed Aedan. The edges of his fingers tingled as he squeezed his sword tightly. Something about the impeding battle made the few moments before all the more satifying.

"Kill them,"grunted Aedan.

Kolgrim smiled, revealing teeth stained with scarlet dragon's blood. "Fools."

Before Aedan could react, Kolgrim took the horn strapped to his side and bellowed into it. It's low, melodious cry was followed by an air shaking roar Aedan knew all too well. He had heard the cry a dozen times in his nightmares. The trees shook and a winged shadow fell over the group.

"Dragon!"

This was no nightmare though- Aedan did not fear his waking battles. He did not falter at the sight of the looming beast. In his mind he had imagined how to kill it a thousand times over.

Kolgrim lept at Aedan and swung his axe into his side. The tainted mixture in his blood activated instinctively as he swung upwards to parry. Even with the tainted strength within him, Aedan struggled beneath the force of Kolgrims blow. Aedan's sword shook as he mustered up strength. With one quick shove, Kolgrim slid backwards against the snow upon the ground. The cultist leader cackled with his bloodstained smile.

"You. There's something in your blood. Different from the other Warden. Like me. I can smell it."

Alistair glanced over at Kolgrim as he spoke, yet had to turn back around to his own two opponents- a pair of tower shield bearing reavers. They brought their maces down with a righteous fury in their battlecries. Alistair yelped and lept backwards.

"You could have tasted our power, ascended to a higher existence, but instead you choose to crawl on the ground like insects!"

Blow after blow, Aedan slipped further backwards. He needed to act fast. Aedan slammed his shield against the oncoming Kolgrim, knocking him backwards for just a second. In that brief pause, Aedan emptied one of Avernus's vials into his mouth. Now he could truly let loose. All the restraint that Aedan had exerted to keep his ability from running rampant, he now released. He could feel the taint pulsing inside him, pumping through his heart at an incredible rate. He felt impossibly hot, as though his insides boiled beneath his armour. This is what it had been like fighting Flemeth, except now the taint did not burn away to him.

The overwhelming smell of blood filled the entire clearing. Another of Kolgrim's lackeys rushed at him. Aedan thrust his hand into the front half of the man's neck. With the sharp edges of his gauntlets Aedan crushed bone and flesh beneath his grip, while at the same time bringing his sword down upon another cultist.

"How dare you harm my children!" screamed Kolgrim. Aedan rushed at Kolgrim. Kolgrim side stepped and slammed the butt of his axe into Aedan's back. Aedan stomped his feet into the ground and held his footing. His body twisted around and his muscles contracted. He swung back around like a twister. Their weapons collided, but Aedan's dwarven forged blade, propelled by his momentum, smashed through Kolgrim's axe. His head pounding, Aedan slammed it against Kolgrim's forehead. The father staggered backwards in a daze. Aedan drove his blade straight through Kolgrim's breast plate. Blood dripped from Kolgrim's mouth as he fell to the ground, gasping for air.

The ground rumbled behind him. Aedan whipped around to see the dragon leaping towards him. Aedan darted his eyes to the left- Alistair had killed one lieutenant but not the other. Aedan focused in on the man's throat, took a deep breath, and drew Nan's knife. He hurled the knife from far away. The sharp steel howled through the air as it slammed into the man's throat.

"It's on the ground- get those hooks in!" yelled Aedan at Alistair, the other Warden momentarily stunned at how quickly Aedan had dispatched the other man.

Aedan detached the hook and rope strapped to his left leg. He took the custom barbed nail that Mikhael had made, looped the rope through it, then slammed it into the rock mountain with his foot. The dragon barreled towards him, the scent of his blood drawing him in.

"Steady," he shouted to the others. Aedan clenched the hook in his hand and got into a running start. Sten, Alistair, Oghren, and Zevran too drove their nails in, behind the dragon out of it's sight.

"Steady..."

The dragon was no more than a few arms length from Aedan. It's scaly mouth opened to reveal rows of fanged teeth stained with blood. The beginnings of a fire festered at the root of it's throat. Water dripped from the snow beneath the dragon.

"Now!"

Aedan rocketed at the dragon. Just as it bellowed it's flames directly at him, Aedan slide on his side beneath her line of fire. The ice beneath him melted and water soaked into his armor as he slid too far. Aedan scrambled and drove his blade into the ground to stop himself. In that momentary window whilst she still breathed fire, Aedan lept upwards onto her main body, close to the base of her wings. Barrages of frost and magical energy hit the area of the wing closest to Aedan, making brittle the scales that covered the wing bones. With a roar, Aedan dug the hook straight into the exposed area of the wing.

He rolled off the dragon, looking backwards to see three other lengths of rope similarly attached to the dragon- Alistair and the others had done their job. The beast struggled beneath its bonds. As it's wings flapped about, the hooks ripped through the softer membrane of its wingspan. It shrieked in agony into the sky.

At the same time, the warriors were hacking at her legs. "Come on beastie!"roared Oghren in delight. Aedan could barely see the dwarf under the constant whirlwind of his battle axe. Aedan concentrated on keeping the dragon occupied- it's jaws constantly snapped at him and flame surrounded him on all fronts. Wynne and Morrigan put out the fires that surrounded him and often spread onto his body, but Aedan had to take care of the blunt blows. The dragon smashed it's head down upon, but Aedan met it's blow with his shield. With all of his tainted strength he dug his sword into the creature's neck and pinned it down on the ground. His body struggled to hold down the flailing neck and head.

The dragon's legs, bleeding and maimed, collapsed and the dragon crumpled to the ground. Aedan and the others barreled out of the way before the body crushed them. It's neck and head flailed about and smashed into the pulsed between Morrigan's hands, then surged into the dragon's mouth. The electricity crackled in the monster's throat and it let out a blood curdling shriek of pure agony. Smoke arose from it's burning flesh. The dragon's head finally rested on the ground with only a few twitches of life left in it.

"I got the last one, someone else feel free to finish it off," said Aedan. Oghren eagerly barreled over to the dragon to repeatedly and unnecessarily bash it's skull in over and over. Still panting, Aedan instead opted to sit down on a nearby rock and catch his breath. He hadn't noticed until now tiring constant usage of his ability was. He undid his helm and let sweat drip from his forehead onto the ground. His limbs burned from fatigue. He had overdid it with his usage of the tainted blood, and his lack of sleep certainly didn't help.

"ANDRASTE!"

The blood-soaked Kolgrim staggered back up and picked up his battle axe. He took frenzied breaths and roared like a rabid dog.

"How the-"

Aedan noticed that Kolgrim's wound had already begun to close back up, albeit only a little. Kolgrim clasped his hand to his side to keep the remainder of his insides from spilling out. Was this the power of a reaver?

"You killed her in all her beauty!" he sputtered, "Do you know what you have done-"

Annoyed, Aedan trudged over to the barely standing man. With a quick slice, Kolgrim's head rolled onto the ground, followed by his limp body. "Doubt you can come back from that," grunted Aedan. He leaned over the man's body and examined his chest wound. Even now, with the head removed, Kolgrim's chest still attempted to mend itself. Aedan took a spare vial and pocketed a sample of the man's blood. Aedan tossed his bag filled with empty vials to Zevran. "Get as much dragon blood as you can. It's valuable and could net us some good gold. Shale, yank as many scales as you can off of that dragon. We could make some good armour from that-"

"Father Kolgrim! NO!"

Aedan tiredly turned to see who interrupted him this time. The villagers and the rest of the cultist reavers Kolgrim had left behind now gathered on the mountainside. The bright burn of torches glinted off of the rusted pitchforks and shovels that thrust into the air. Countless villagers shouted expletives and curses at Aedan and his group. Aedan stepped away from the body as villagers threw trash and stones at him.

What looked like a commander of the troops stepped forward, clad in ceremonial armor stained with dried blood."They killed Father Kolgrim! Do not let them get away!"

An elite group of reavers charged at Aedan group. Aedan lept and slammed his sword directly into one man's face. Sten cleaved his sword forward and took down three men. Oghren swing his axe downwards and split a man's skull in two. In a matter of seconds, ten men had been reduced to ten bloodied corpses. The villagers, in sharp contrast to their previous shouting, now trembled in silence. Aedan coldly regarded the remainder of the mob.

"Anybody else want to attack us? Are have you learnt your lesson?"

A single warrior strode to the front. He pointed his sword at them and declared, "Andraste will strike you down like she did the others. For we are the righteous." He clenched the sword between his hands and stared down Aedan with furious eyes.

"Pretty sure that was just you guys torturing and killing."

"That is why you cannot defeat Andraste. We are her arms and legs. You come here, invade our village, kill our leaders and maim the holy Andraste-"

"Killed. I killed your holy Andraste. Big difference. I think I'm going to make armor from her."

"Even now you mock us!" screamed the man, "You think yourself better than us? You have killed our innocent, and now we shall have our justice, just as we did to those Redcliffe knights!"

A woman emerged from the crowd and tugged on the man's arm. "Honey, please, just let them go-"

"Andraste guides me-"

"Look at Kolgrim and the others," his wife pleaded, now almost in tears. She tugger even harder on his arm, but fell over in the process. The man stood steady in his conviction, and stepped one towards Aedan.

"My brothers," said the man, raising his sword into the air, "rise and let us defeat them." Several warriors glanced at one another with doubt in their eyes, but still they rose to the man's battle cry.

Aedan raised his hand to keep his companions back.

"I want to set an example," he whispered quietly to them.

Him and a horde of others rushed at Aedan. Aedan let the smell of blood fill his helm. One lept at him. He grabbed by the head and twisted all the way around. He parried another's blow and uppercut with palm into the man nose- propelling the cartilage of the man's nose directly into his brain and killing him. Another man swung a hammer at him, only for Aedan to catch his arm mid-strike, and proceed to twist it all the way around.

Everything was a blur for Aedan. He needed to sleep. His body ached. He didn't didn't have the time or energy to care about the well-being of his attackers- no, his victims. He was the attacker. After all, around whom did the bodies gather?

Aedan spun around, looking for the next foe to take down, but spotted no one save for a lone, unmoving figure- the original instigator. Panting and dizzy, Aedan wanted so badly to collapse onto his knees and rest upon the ground. Yet he knew he had to stand tall. He saw the fear in the villagers eyes as they looked upon him and the bodies at his feet. Some had already fled to their houses. Good, he thought, remember me as a monster. I want you to remember the fear of death. Then this village will kill no more.

Yet despite Aedan's example, the original instigator had no fear in his eyes."I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you," he screamed, spit flying from his mouth as he howled in indignation. It reminded Aedan of a rabid dog that needed to be put down. The man roared and charged. Aedan struck his fist directly into the solarplex. Bone cracked beneath his blow, and the man crumbled. The man kay wheezing upon the ground. Aedan's shadow loomed over him. The warden look up expectantly at the crowd. No more raised their weapons, and none would dare step forward to help. Aedan pulled the heaving man up by his hair and held Nan's knife to his throat for all to see. The man's knees scrapped against the snowy ground as he struggled to kick free. Aedan slammed his foot down on the man's flailing legs, and the man howled in agony.

"Do you see this?" shouted Aedan to the crowd of villagers, "This is what lays in the outside world. Power to kill your god ten times over."

One more death among hundreds...what difference does it make, thought Aedan. He placed the knife against the Nan's throat and applied only the slightest of pressure. A little drop of blood dribbles from the blade. Aedan wasn't sure whether it was from an earlier victim or his next.

Yes, this man would be an example. No one in the village would dare continue the cult if they knew the bloodshed to follow. Aedan would root out the rotten weeds and stomp them into the ground.

"Let me show you what happens if any of you think of continuing your little cult."

From behind him he could hear feet shifting forward- someone coming to stop him. Which one was it? Alistair? Leliana? Wynne? It didn't matter. This is what needed to be done. They would understand that. If this man's death will guarantee that this village be purified, then so be it.

It was just one more life.

"Father!" A little boy rushed to the front of the crowd. The man's wife gripped the boys wrist and pulled him backwards with a sharp tug. The boy struggled against his mother's restraint and began weeping.

The man's expression changed. Instead of fury, his contorted face softened as he stared out at his child. He gulped once. "Look away, pup," whispered the man beneath Aedan's knife.

* * *

><p><em>By now the sun was falling in the Alienage. The funeral party had gathered for a small wake outside Hijaya's apartment, but now they were dispersing. Nighttime in the Alienage was dangerous for anybody, even Aedan. The young man approached Hijaya who was cradling her baby underneath the shade. He nodded once at her, indicating he had to leave.<em>

"_Thank you for everything," said Hijaya._

_Aedan gave her a lopsided smile."I should be thanking you. You and your family have given me so much."_

"_You save my father and gave him an extra year to live. He got to see his grandchild because of you. That small amount of life is worth far more than any riches you could have given us," she replied. Aedan sheepishly scratched his head. He couldn't really say anything back to that._

"_Where are you off to now?" asked Hijaya as Aedan was about to head off._

"_For now...a village that it's better you don't know the name of."_

"_Ah," said Hijaya sadly, "My father's unfinished business." _

_Aedan laughed a little."In a way it's more mine than his, considering that I've pissed off a good amount of people involved with this more than he did."_

_Hijaya chuckled back and patted Aedan on the shoulder. "Don't be a stranger, Aedan. Jarat, the baby, and I would love to see you again soon."_

"_Maybe someday," said Aedan, "I'll visit the Alienage again. I promise." Aedan gave Hijaya one last hug before dashing off into towards the gates of the Alienage._

_Outside the gate and near one of the exits of the city, his father awaited with a horse and carriage, his figure cloaked. They wanted to be discrete getting to where they needed to go._

"_Everything squared away?" asked Bryce, "More importantly, are you alright?"_

"_I'll be fine." Aedan threw his knapsack into the back of the wagon and hopped in alongside his father. _

"_Alright, I've told the driver to take us to Westholme," said Bryce, who jumped in the back as well. He signaled to the horseman to set off. The wagon rocked against the bumpy roads near the Denerim gate. Bryce eased himself into his seat- as he got older, it was harder to just simply sit anywhere._

_Aedan lay back on one of the hay piles and looked out the opening into the starry night sky. He wondered if somewhere up there in the stars in another world Teharel was watching him. With all his heart, Aedan prayed his friend was. Aedan felt a slight pang in his chest as he fondly remembered his friend. _

_Looking at the figure of his son, with his gaze towards the sky, Bryce could sense how tired his son was. His son was not one to talk much about how he felt. Bryce had always encouraged Aedan to talk to him or Eleanor about these sort of things, but Aedan had always been closed off. He always tried to solve things on his own. His brother, Fergus, was not like that. Perhaps Aedan, the second-born, felt the need to prove himself. Perhaps a life around politicians had made Aedan weary of sharing secrets with others. Whatever the reason, Bryce knew trying to pry his son right now was not the right decision. Aedan, despite the lack of expression on his face, was mourning. He could hide it all he wanted, but Bryce knew his son. _

"_We can talk about the business regarding the village tomorrow," he said and patted Aedan on the back. "Get some sleep."_

_Aedan sadly smiled and closed his eyes."Good night, father."_

_Bryce smiled back and layed back on his own haypile."Good night, pup."_

* * *

><p>Aedan's world crashed with that single sentence. His right hand starting trembling as he held it to the man's throat. He looked at the child and back at the father and back at the child again. He could hear someone breathing close behind him. Whoever had come to stop him had noticed his hesitation.<p>

This man was a father. Perhaps to Aedan, this man's life seemed small and even disgusting for what he had done, but to the little boy in tears, this man meant everything. Aedan had almost forgotten the words he had spoken to Zevran one night, the night after he had killed Majorlaine- "I can't forget the value of one human life".

One life was such a precious thing. He had tried to forget and just tried to chalk it up to numbers. It was far easier to send numbers to die. It was far easier to execute numbers. He couldn't use the excuse that he had killed so many before to justify this choice. Here right now, the choice came down to a single life.

Aedan wanted to believe this man could be better. Aedan wanted to believe that he would go home to his wife and son and make them happy without the suffering of others. Just like with the Ashes, Aedan had to give this man a chance. Aedan sheathed his knife and pushed the quivering man back into the arms of his wife and child. His wife sobbed as she clutched her husband tight. The son buried himself between the two, savouring the warmth of his parents. Aedan watched the scene sadly before turning away. No matter what he had done, Aedan could still be a better man.

"See. Look as the coward slinks away. He will get what's coming to him," seethed the man with his child in his arms. Aedan stopped, his fist clenched.

Better did not mean good.

Aedan squatted down and got on eye level with the man. He did not try to grab him, nor draw a weapon. Fear kept the man in place as Aedan cocked his head to the side and stared at him with infinitely tired eyes. "Is that a threat?" he asked wearily. The man struggled against the anger inside of him- the sides of his mouth twitched as he held his tongue.

"I am directly responsible for the deaths of thousands of men. Your village is nothing. If I ever, ever hear that your village even harms another soul, then I will come here alone, unarmed. And will slaughter you like you slaughtered the countless innocents to hide this place. I will break your bones. I will burn your houses. I will make you watch as one by one I kill everything you ever loved. "

And Aedan cracked a smile. A twisted, sad, tired, maniacal smile, like the one Flemeth had. He laughed a little as he stared the man right into the eyes.

"But I won't kill all of you, no, I'll leave you. Just you. You will be left alone. Your family, your pretty little wife and child, will be slaughtered in front of your eyes. Do you want to know what that's like? I'll fucking tell you. You will wish that you had just died that day along with everyone you ever loved, you wish you had not been left alone in a world unknown. Everyday-"

The man trembled and glanced away. Aedan furiously grabbed the man's face and squeezed it in a death vice. He forced the man's face back towards his own. His fingernails dug into the man's cheeks and blood dribbled down onto the snow. "Listen to me when I am talking to you," he seethed before continuing.

"And if you're lucky you'll still be able to cry yourself to sleep hungry and…"

Aedan trailed off, his voice becoming a mere whisper. He drew the man's ear closer to his mouth.

"If you're lucky you can just die early, because the doubt and the guilt and regret will eat away at you until there is nothing left.

So guess what, now it's your responsibility. You get to carry that heavy weight of people's lives on your back. If I hear another person is killed by your village, I will come back and kill everyone but you. And I want you to know that I wouldn't have come back if not for your little outburst- so remember that it's your fault. It's your responsibility to carry. You get to keep your little village in control."

Aedan stood back up on his feet and kicked the man backwards onto his back. Aedan resisted the urge to break anymore limbs.

"You get to choose- the responsibility for people's lives, or the regret of losing everything you love. Pray to whatever Maker you worship you don't have to carry both."

The man nodded in a daze as his wife clutched his back sobbing. Aedan looked over at his companions standing in the snow. His fellow warden stood apart from the others in the front. From behind Alistair, Aedan could see the path of frantic footsteps the templar had taken as he had rushed to stop Aedan. Aedan looked at him wordlessly, then turned away and downed the rest of his flask.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Drama, death, and dragons, quite a week.

Jarjaxle: Yeah he sorta slaughtered them. More and more people are noticing something's wrong- and next chapter it comes to a head!

Brochacho: Oh you'll like the next few chapters…

Bloodwolf342: Yeah in my playthroughs I can't bring myself to ever defile it.

TheBlueDragonWolf: Glad you liked it, hope you keep reading.

NoGutsNoGlory: Feel free to nitpick; I always feel that something's lacking in my writing, so if you can see a clear problem just let me know.

Next week- the final chapter of this part! Will there be healing, or will there be more HEALING? As always, feel free to review, ask questions, or leave constructive criticism.


	52. Leap

**Part 6: Faith**

_Chapter 52: Leap_

The cold wind hit Aedan first before the others, and he shivered inside his metal armor. Aedan led the group on horseback, where he could see none of them nor hear their whispers. Instead, he traveled with his new favorite companion: whiskey. Aedan took another swig from his recently refilled flask as the cold wind buffered against him again. The cold was starting to get to him, and he needed some more heat in his system.

Wynne trotted up beside him on her own horse. She had the look on her face- that stern, lecturing look that reminded Aedan a bit of his own mother. Right now however he did not want to be reminded of his family. He didn't want to think about what they might think of who he had become.

"I'm not going to apologize for what I did, if that's what you're wondering," he preemptively shot out.

Despite her stern face, Wynne's voice had a soft, worried tone to it as she said,"Aedan, you nearly killed that man in front of his son."

"We've killed countless fathers and sons. Besides, I didn't do it, so harm done." Aedan took another swig from his flask. Before he had mounted his horse, he had refilled the empty flask.

Wynne watched as Aedan gulped down his liquor."How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough for this," muttered Aedan rather snidely. He patted his horse his thanks. If he wasn't riding it, Aedan wasn't sure he'd be able to walk in a straight line.

"This isn't about what you did, it's this self-destructive behavior of yours. Why do you have so many stitches?" Wynne tried to reach over and grab at an exposed area of skin around Aedan's elbow. The warden swatted away her arm and made a mental note to make new armor. The warden armor he had gotten from Soldier's Keep was falling apart- simple steel did no good against the strange enemies Aedan faced. Perhaps he would take what he had taunted the village with earlier seriously and make new armor from the dragon.

Noting Wynne's hurt look as she gently clutched the hand Aedan had swatted away, Aedan replied with a gentler voice, "I do what I do to stop this blight."

"So that means drinking and abusing your body till you die?" asked the older woman.

Aedan growled once and glared at Wynne, "People keep telling me they can't believe what we've done. If we were not here, Wynne, then Ferelden would be gone within the month. The South is already lost. I've had to tell the soldiers to abandon any sort of rescue attempt. All the other countries are just waiting for us to die. Orlais is more than willing to pick up the pieces of our ravaged country.

Blights last decades, the longest lasted centuries- but could end this in one more month. We're poised to have the largest, most unified army to take down the Archdemon. We've killed two dragons, a pride demon, an army of golems, werewolves, mages, and Maker knows what else- we can kill the Archdemon. You think that comes without some sort of sacrifice? You died at the tower, Wynne, I'd expect you to understand. I am ready to sacrifice everything about myself in order to beat this Blight."

Wynne stewed over Aedan's comment and quietly replied,"There is a difference between sacrifice and self-destructive behavior."

"I know that," muttered Aedan drunkenly. At long last the booze was starting to hit him good. His body felt warm and the edge taken off his mind. He sighed in relief and leaned his head back towards the sky.

"If you know that, then why do you continue?"

"I am alive for one reason, Wynne. To kill the Archdemon."

The mage paused and considered the implications of her next question very carefully."And when that reason is fulfilled?" she asked. Her hands clutched the reins of her horse tighter as she watched Aedan's dead unchanging expression. Aedan did not answer and whipped the reins of his horse to gallop up ahead.

* * *

><p>Isolde fidgeted above Eamon's slumbering body. Her son Connor leaned on the bed and peered close at his father's face. Aedan stayed outside in the hallway, and couldn't get a good look at the man from behind the various people that surrounded him. Alistair stood in the doorway and watched the scene unfold. The mage's hands, powered by the Ashes, glowed with a brilliant light different from any Aedan had seen. At first glance it was blindingly bright, but the longer you looked into it, the more gentle it's rays seemed.<p>

You could tell who the man's family was, thought Aedan. There were those in the room who looked only at the light, and those who looked at Eamon himself. Of those in the room, only Isolde, Connor, Teagan, and Alistair kept their eyes on Eamon at all times. Although Aedan did not envy Eamon having to deal with the death and destruction wrought while he slumbered, he did envy that he would still wake up to his family- his wife, his son, and his brother.

Perhaps he might be glad to see Alistair as well. He had taken the boy in and helped raise him, and even when Alistair was shipped off to the templars at such a young age, Eamon had still visited every so often. Alistair often spoke of regret of how he had treated the good-natured Eamon when he was younger.

Eamon's face twitched and his eyes fluttered. Isolde covered her mouth as her tears streamed down her face. Alistair smiled uncertainly while he hesitated to step inside the some thought, he turned to leave, but felt Aedan push against his back and force him through the door.

"Aedan-"

"You should be in there," said Aedan, looking not into Alistair's eyes but at the radiant scene of joy unfolding before them. "You're his family after all. Tell him I'll be out on the balcony whenever he's ready."

Aedan turned his back his fellow warden and shuffled off into the hallway alone. Sighing, Aedan wondered how his conversation with Eamon would go. Surely the man would recognize him- a man as important as Eamon had kept close relations with a man as important as Bryce Cousland.

An young maid tried to squeeze around Aedan's armored form unnoticed. Aedan turned to her and said, "Oi, you." The maid halted in her path and stuttered, "Yes m'lord, Warden, ser, I mean-"

"Warden is fine," grunted Aedan.

"Yes m'lord?" squeaked the maid, despite Aedan's previous statement. Aedan scoffed internally. It had been quite some time since someone called him a lord.

"Get me something strong."

After the maid had rushed to get him a drink and hastily returned, Aedan leaned out against the railing of a nearby balcony. He waited and watched the night sky. It would have at least been interesting if the stars had been out, but instead grey clouds blighted out the stars and moon. Aedan passed the next hour alone staring at the clouds as they floated lazily by.

Down the hallway he could hear footsteps. No clink of armor, and slightly heavier than a servant. Aedan had to mentally remind himself that it was not a threat coming from behind. The footsteps were slow and dragged against the floor each time for half a second. No doubt Eamon, struggling to walk after so long.

"So you must be the Grey Warden everyone's been telling me about. They mentioned your name- Aedan was it? I once knew a Aedan-"

Eamon nearly dropped his glass as his mouth gaped. Aedan got his first good look at Eamon since several years ago. Several months in a coma left Eamon's shirt, weaved from thick Ferelden wool, baggy and ill-fitting. Aedan peered at the older man's shocked eyes, the crows feet beneath them, and the pasty white skin.

"Good to see you again too, Eamon,"greeted Aedan coldly.

Eamon stepped in closer onto the balcony. He never took his gaze off his Aedan's face, his mouth still slightly agape."It's you. They said you were dead." Aedan noticed Eamon frown as he looked upon one particular scar on Aedan's face- it ran from the bottom of his cheek down his neck, from when a darkspawn had gotten a lucky hit on him.

"Maker, you look like you've aged five years…How are you still alive? How did you become a Grey Warden?" Eamon took a stiff gulp from his glass, and then another. The sight of a dead man

"Duncan, the Warden-Commander, helped me escape the night Howe attacked in exchange for becoming a Grey Warden. As for all the other circumstances-" Aedan took a extra large sip from his glass and sighed. "Let's just chalk that up to hard work, shall we?"

Eamon grimaced whilst he struggled to find his next words. Aedan did not interrupt- it was common courtesy to express sympathy for something like this. Aedan didn't like the sympathy though. He understood that weren't pitying him, nor looking down upon him- they were just trying to make him feel better. He didn't however want, not need, their words. He didn't want to think about it- he could get by most days simply blocking out the memory of his family. But Aedan knew the Eamon's courtesy would come, and waited to accept it.

"Aedan, I am so sorry about your family," stated Eamon "Bryce and Eleanor were dear friends of mine." Eamon stepped closer and clasped Aedan on the shoulder. The sudden movement took Aedan by surprise, but Aedan stayed his sword arm.

"I swear to you Howe will see justice."

Aedan blinked. The Blight had occupied his every waking thought for so long that he actually hadn't thought about the treacherous Howe. His hands trembled as the image of Howe hanging from the gallows flashed through his mind. The edges of his mouth twitched. No, that wasn't good enough. Perhaps the man in Haven had not deserved to die, but Howe...Howe deserved something worse, and Aedan would give it to him. An execution would be too kind.

Suddenly remembering he was still in a conversation, Aedan quickly responded, "Thank you, but let's get down to business." Eamon pursed his lips in confusion at the quick turnover i topics. He took his hand from Aedan's shoulder. "The Landsmeet," stated Aedan, "We need to call it."

"Yes, I have already had the messengers sent out. It should take several weeks for all the nobles to arrive." Eamon looked over the balcony at the village beneath him. Despite the destruction the undead had wrought, the fishing village was now filled with lights and fixed houses, with the townspeople clamoring about in the townsquare. No doubt news of their Arl's revival had reached them.

"They are lucky," mused Eamon, "They have not yet seen the Blight's touch. How is the south? The darkspawn started at Ostagar."

The lights and life of Redcliffe contrasted with the memory of the southern lands that Aedan still held. "It is lost," he said, remembering the blighted lands that he and Alistair had scouted out for survivors not more than a month ago. They didn't even have time to burn the corpses before the darkspawn had sensed them and forced them to flee.

Eamon grimaced as he imagined the devastation. "Maker, those poor people."

"We'll stop this, Eamon," reassured Aedan as he stared out at the sparse lights beneath him. "I won't see my country die."

The Arl nodded grimly. "Thank you. Ser Perth tells me you already have an army."

Aedan nodded, albeit reluctantly. He would not hide the truth of the matter from Eamon."We have the semblance of one- but we need the Fereldan army as the backbone. Without numbers, we cannot hope to stand against the brunt of the horde. I need the Landsmeet to go in our favor."

"For that, Aedan, I'll need you by my side during the Landsmeet."

Aedan gulped once nervously."In Denerim."

Sensing Aedan's hesitation, Eamon asked,"Have you not been back since?"

"I have, but not in the open. Only cloaked and scurrying about like some criminal." Aedan sighed."Can I just simply leave the politics to you? I am afraid I may have lost some of my...tact." Indeed, Aedan had found it far easier to stick swords in his enemies than weaving words to navigate the political landscape. At the very least I am thankful, thought Aedan, that it is not Orlesian internal politics I have to deal with. Maker help the Orlesians if Ferelden failed.

Eamon smiled sadly. He stroked his greying beard and thought of a better time when Loghain had been his friend, not the man he had become."The Fereldan people...do you understand why they follow Loghain? He is their hero. The man who led them out of oppression and saved our country. The common man risen to nobility. He is a symbol that the common Fereldan will follow with blind faith.

Do you know what Isolde told me before I met you today? I asked her to tell about this Grey Warden who traveled with Alistair. She called you 'The Warden', as though it were a title. She told me all the things you have accomplished. You saved the Circle, the elves, Orzammar, and my people. You stand at the head of the greatest army Ferelden has ever seen. The people need to see a symbol. They need a hero."

Aedan laughed bitterly and finished off his drink. It almost sounded like the stories his parents would read to him. The mighty hero came, united the lands, and sacrificed himself to kill the evil dragon. He had always thought the ending was sad when he was younger, but he wasn't so sure anymore.

Placing his glass on the balcony railing, Aedan exhaled slowly as he gathered his response."Fine then," he breathed, "Let's give Denerim a show, shall we?"

"I will see you in the morning, Aedan. We can talk about the specifics of the Landsmeet later, but right now get some rest. We have some guest rooms that you and your friends can stay in."

* * *

><p>If another maid came by and asked her if she wanted 'better clothes', Morrigan would set this entire castle on fire.<p>

She sat alone on the bed, observing her strange, foreign surroundings. She had never stayed in a room filled with such luxuries. Her golden mirror, tucked away in her bag, almost paled in comparison to some of the decorations in the guest room. All the furniture was intricately carved from a dark rosewood, accented by the dark red velvet that covered much of the bedding and seats. The king-sized bed seemed like a vast ocean spread out in front of her- Morrigan had no idea what to do with such a larged bed. She was used to her itchy, small bed roll or the rough old cotton of Flemeth's bedding.

A knock on the door broke her train of thoughts. I swear, thought Morrigan, it better not be the maids. Instead, the least likely person she would ever think would come visit walked through the door.

"Morrigan, can I talk to you?" asked Alistair. He hesitated at first to step through the doorway, but after a second made up his mind and stepped inside while shutting the door.

Morrigan lay on the sofa. It was smaller, and felt more comfortable. "This is rather unusual." She stared up at the ceiling, choosing not to make eye contact with the templar. Their one on one conversations were brief and always related to the Blight or battle.

"It's about Aedan."

Morrigan bit her lip and glanced at Alistair.

"You had to have noticed it. The entire time at the village, he's been off. That man in the temple, Kolgrim talking about his blood, and then...he nearly killed that man in front of his child. Then he just drank the entire way back."

Morrigan remained silent. She gulped once as that familiar pain welled up in her chest. She wanted Alistair to stop talking, to stop making the pain come back up, but at the same time the words would not leave her mouth. She had to hear.

"He doesn't sleep, Morrigan, you have to know this. He tries his best to hide it, but I know. Ever since Orzammar, ever since he let House Harrowmont die, he's almost never I have nightmares, Morrigan, and it's not just about the Archdemon, but I still get sleep. I still eat. But Aedan, I don't know what he's running on."

Alistair paused again, waiting for an answer from Morrigan. He looked at her and from her downcast eyes he could tell she was listening. He knew she failed to respond not out of ambivalence but anxiety- so he continued.

"Did I ever tell you what Duncan told me about him? We were sitting in camp together just after Aedan had arrived and he was putting his dog in the kennel. Duncan walked up to me and told me that Aedan had just been something very traumatic and utterly tragic. Before he could tell me what was, I was told to deliver a message to the mages, and that Aedan would find me later."

"And as I'm walking later, I think to myself, what do I say to this guy? This guy who apparently been through hell? And I'm standing there right after the mage storms off and there he is, Aedan. And he's trying his best to look normal. But the thing about knowing what someone's been through is that you can see the cracks in their visage. I could see it, those tired, dead eyes, that fake half-smile. And I don't know what to say. Do I say 'Hey heard something real bad happened to you and I'm terribly sorry even though I don't know what I'm sorry about'? And before I can even think, I spit out a joke. This terrible, inappropriate joke about how the Blight brings people together. Maker, the man could have had his entire family slaughtered by darkspawn! And I'm kicking myself mentally over and over when all of a sudden he laughs and smiles a real smile. And for a moment I see the true Aedan, the one you and I both care for, and he jokes back 'like a tea party?'

So I try as hard as I can to lighten him up, tell as many jokes as I can, because that's all I know how to do. He's carrying something heavy and all I know what to do is make him forget his burdens a little.

Then Ostagar happens. And you saw me- despondent with no hope. I didn't know what to do, but Aedan was there at my side. He never had to say it, but he took the lead when I wouldn't. I was too wrapped up in my sorrow. Thank the maker he did because I don't think I could have handled all the burdens of leadership along with the grief of Ostagar. And in my grief I forgot- I forgot that Aedan was carrying something too. It was easier to lean on him. He seemed invincible, like something out of a story, like he could carry any burden that came his way. We all did. Without him, our group wouldn't have stayed together, much less have worked together. How could it seem like he was carrying any worries, when he was helping so many? He was there to listen about my worries with my heritage and Duncan. He saved Leliana from Majorlaine, found Wynne's former pupil- but deep down I knew he was carrying so much for so many, so I joked. I joked as much as I could, so if even a little I could help him.

But it wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't enough. And now Aedan...he's not living. He's just fighting."

"Why are you telling me this?" mumbled Morrigan. She didn't want to think about Aedan. Thinking about him made her chest hurt, made her head spin from worry. Everything the templar said was true- she knew Aedan was going through something awful, but she couldn't talk to him, not after what had happened.

The templar sat down on bed and wrung his hands. "Because when he was with you, he smiled so much more than my jokes ever could make him," admitted the templar."Maybe I don't like you that much, and you me, but I'm coming to you not because you have some wealth of world knowledge that can fix him, nor because you're strong enough to take the burden of the Blight off of him."

He fell silent for awhile before he whispered, "I just want to see my friend happy again."

Morrigan for once met Alistair's gaze.

* * *

><p>Aedan traced his fingers along the fine Orlesian fabrics. How long had it been since he had slept in a bed like this? He had been in bed with Iona, when the first of the soldiers had come. He watched as they drove their swords through her and her bloody body hit the floor.<p>

He could still picture it in his mind. The guard had burst through the door once Iona put her hand on the brass door knob. Then, a year ago, his reflexes were not sharpened enough to stop such a thing. Aedan would have never expected someone to burst in kill him in his own home. Aedan sat on the bed, imagining the elven woman and the guardsmen. He remembered the exact movements of the guard- a single thrust straight through the stomach. If it had been him now, he would have thrown something from the bedside, maybe one of his books, to knock the guard off balance, then picked up his sword and gone straight for the heart.

What would he have done then? Aedan imagined running out into the hallway. He would have gutted them men with his sword and rushed forward. He'd have found his mother earlier, gotten her armed. He remembered- there had been exactly five guards in the path between him and Oren and Oriana. It had taken two or so minutes to take them down. As Aedan was now, all he had to do was rush through them in a few seconds and gut them like animals.

Aedan imagined running down the Castle Cousland hallway. He could hear the fire crackling in the castle walls. Two minutes saved. Maybe he could have made it Oriana and Oren then. Instead of a cold, dead body, he'd have hugged his living nephew. If only he could travel back and do it all over again. He would have gone with Duncan, regardless of whether or not his family survived. If anything, his family living would have made the entire process easier. No doubt they would have stood up against Loghain and Howe, and helped curb the civil war. They would have protested against their son being labeled a criminal and fought to defend the Grey Wardens.

Aedan shut his eyes and blocked off his thoughts. There was no use in agonizing over on how he would do things over. I've made my bed, now it's time to lay in it, thought Aedan. The irony of his thought did not escape him as he sat down upon his bed. He remained motionless like a statue, uncertain of what to do next. Aedan had spent so much time planning and fighting that he had forgotten what it was like to sleep in a luxurious bed.

He sat down on it and the bed creaked beneath his weight. For a fleeting second Aedan felt his stress begin to alleviate. Memories of days spent in bed rushed through his mind. He lept back up and stared at the bed and gulped. He didn't want to think about those kind of things.

Instead Aedan took his bedroll out of his belongings and laid it by the side of the bed. Aedan lay on the cold hard floor and drank from his flask. He closed his eyes and expected the warm feeling of the whiskey to spread through his limbs, but it did not. It felt just as cold as before.

"Come on," he muttered, taking another swig. After several more minutes, nothing happened. Aedan downed the rest of the flask, hoping for results. He felt a little warmer, and his mind a little lighter, but he needed more, he didn't want to think at all, he just wanted to be warm and fuzzy and then black out into sleep. He reached into his pack for more booze, but found only empty bottles. Aedan counted the bottles with his fingers. One, two, three, and that was only the ones he felt like reaching. Had he gone through all that in the past week or so?

Alone, Aedan curled up on his side and tugged his blanket around himself tighter.

The door creaked open and interrupted his thoughts. He could not see who had opened it, as the door was on the other side of the bed. He heard soft footsteps, followed by the creaking of the bed as whoever it was sat down. The person sat in silence, not noticing Aedan laying on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. Whoever it was waited several minutes in silence. A soft, familiar voice grumbled, "Where is he?"

The Warden turned over in his bedroll."Morrigan?" The witch jumped at the sudden noise and bed shook a bit. Morrigan peered over the side of the bed to see the source. She looked at Aedan, in his ragged scratchy bedroll, then back at the bed, then back again. She frowned in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep," he stated matter of factly.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes."While there is a bed next to you?"

"I'm used to sleeping in the bedroll."

"Get up, fool."

Morrigan pulled at his arm, attempting to lift him up. Aedan idly tugged his arm downwards, easily breaking Morrigan's grip. The witch clawed at him with her hands again.

"Just-"

"It's not happening, woman-"

"Hold your damn arm still-"

"Stop clawing at me-"

Despite her insistence and constant grabbing, Aedan remained where he was. After much struggle, Aedan simply rolled over on his side and faced away from Morrigan. Sighing, Morrigan rolled over off the bed and fell onto Aedan, positioning her elbow so that it would land directly on his stomach. Unfortunately for Morrigan,her lightness resulted in only a minor grunt from Aedan as she collided with him. She landed on the other side of the bedroll next to Aedan.

"...Did you just try to elbow me in the stomach?"

"No."

The two lay back to back inside of his bedroll. Subtle heat lingered between their backs. They stayed like that, savouring the warmth they both had not felt in awhile, while at the same time being able to deny it.

"Why are you here, Morrigan?" asked Aedan finally. He felt the witch's back fidget and shift. They were quiet like for awhile, until the witch replied,"The templar asked me to check on you."

"Alistair?"

"He has noticed things about you..and I as well...that trouble us. You are...unhappy."

A low grumble arose from Aedan."I'm fine."

"You are not fine," said Morrigan with her voice raising, "You do not eat, you do not sleep, you do not smile, that is the very definition of not fine."

"I'm fine," he reiterated even louder than Morrigan. The conversation died, leaving only an awkward silence in it's wake. Morrigan however continued after too much silence had passed.

"We are very similar, you and I. And...I imagine that you feel the same way as I do about certain situations. Tis difficult for me to talk about things like this to other people. Every word requires a different sort of courage than fighting. Tis difficult for you as well. But then I thought, if Alistair, a man who despises me with every fiber of his being, decided to come to me to help, to put his faith in me that I could help you, then why can't I be as brave as him?"

Morrigan curled up more into herself, her back withdrawing away from Aedan's. Only a small spot still remained pressed against his."So if I can do it, I know you can too," she said, "So let me go first: I am not fine."

Aedan glanced over and looked at Morrigan's back facing him. The witch bit her lip and struggled to find her words."How do I put this," she stuttered, "this is your fault...you made it such that...when you are smiling, I can smile. When you are laughing, I am laughing. When you are full, I too feel full. Conversely, when you are hungry, I feel hungry as well. When you are sleep-deprived, I cannot sleep either. When you are sad, so am I. And right now, I am hungry...I cannot sleep...and a deep sadness weighs down on me when I see you like this."

"I hate you for making me feel this way," muttered Morrigan,"It feels as though each action I take is like leaping over a large chasm, and I am unsure if I can make the jump. I am dizzy and my heart quivers, but at the same time there is a quiet feeling in me- no, not a feeling a fact. If I came to you, you would be there for me. Like you did with Flemeth."

It was easier not to talk about his problems. It was easier to push them down and not confront them, because Aedan didn't know how to deal with them, or perhaps he couldn't deal with them. But if Alistair could make the leap to Morrigan, and if conversely Morrigan could make the leap to him, then maybe, thought Aedan, I could too.

Aedan knew he was tired, hungry, sad, and at his lowest point. Was it so hard to admit he was fallible? Was it okay? Was he allowed to be weak? If Morrigan, the woman who had told him power was everything, could do it, then maybe for once in his life, maybe-

For the first time, Aedan finally said it:

"I'm not fine."

He could feel it. That sheer terror that pulsed throughout his body. His hands went clammy. He stopped a moment to slow his breathing, to calm his racing mind. Morrigan could feel the Warden's back trembled against her own as the normally calm Aedan stumbled over his own words.

"I'm responsible for countless deaths,and responsible to protect countless more lives, and sometimes the burden is so heavy. I can't sleep. I can't taste food anymore. I run myself ragged just trying to keep the momentum going. I look in the mirror, and I don't recognize my own face and body. I keep saying that we will stop this blight...but sometimes I think I'm just trying to convince myself."

Morrigan turned over in the bedroll to face him.

"You are a fool."

"What?"

"If are you tired, then rest, and if you cannot rest, then there is a problem- one that you need to fix. I do not know much about your past, so I do not know much about who you were, but the you I knew immediately after Ostagar was not weak. You stood for the mages and Redcliffe against overwhelming odds. The you right now is not weak either. You have the conviction to carry out your mission, no matter what. If you had not been decisive, the dwarves would erupted in civil war.

Me laying here and listening to your problems...will not fix a thing.I do not believe I have the power to fix your problems, nor you mine. But you have always shown faith in me, even when others have given none. Likewise, I have faith in you, even if you were fighting an archdemon, that you will win. So this inner conflict, I know you will find some way to beat it. I cannot help you with that...but if you are too weary, or if your body has tired too much for you to carry on, tell me. Have some faith in me. Lean on me if you have to, until you are better, instead of hobbling about like a fool."

As Morrigan's words washed over him, so did a familiar feeling of relief. Aedan had almost forgotten this feeling. A tiny bit of weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His body relaxed a little.

Morrigan realized she had been talking for quite some time without Aedan saying a thing, and buried her face in her chest so he would stop looking at her. Aedan looked down at Morrigan's face buried in his chest. Her stern face reddened enough that Aedan could see it in the dark.

"And what of us?" asked Aedan.

"I am here right now, is that not enough for you?" muttered Morrigan, who reached over and pinched Aedan's face. Her face twisted into that familiar half-frown of irritation and furious eyes. Aedan liked that face of hers. "I do not dislike being here with you, but tis a very foreign and overwhelming feeling." Her voice trailed off.."So let us start from the beginning...take it slowly, lest..."

Morrigan muttered something inaudible as she buried her head in his chest again. The only indication she said something was the slight movement of her lips as they brushed against his shirt. The witch rolled over in the bedroll away from his gaze, but pulled Aedan's arms along with her and wrapped them around herself like a blanket.

"Lest what? Lest your heart burst like a swooning maiden?" teased Aedan as he felt the warmth of Morrigan in his arms.

"If you tease me, I will leave." Aedan felt the shape pinch of Morrigan fingers digging into his cheek again, this time with more force behind. Aedan laughed and and pressed his face against her washed hair. He took a deep breath and savoured the warm scent. "You know, if we're starting over, I think proper introductions are in order."

"Now you are simply being ridiculous," scoffed the witch with her back pressed against Aedan's chest. She had almost forgotten what a fool he was.

"Nice to meet you, Morrigan." Morrigan noticed Aedan grow quiet and pull her closer. Against her back she could feel his heart thump through his chest while the man nervously gathered his next words. "My name is Aedan Cousland," he whispered in her ear.

The witch had opened her mouth to retort to Aedan's teasing, but realized what she had just heard and fell silent. Such a name had no meaning to Morrigan, but she smiled and pulled Aedan's arms closer around her. The stitches in his forearm pushed up against her right cheek. She twisted her head around and with a radiant smile planted a single kiss on his lips.

"Nice to meet you, Aedan Cousland."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Finally, part six is finished. A few thoughts on the story looking back and moving forwards. One of the things I've been trying to show is Aedan's continued reliance on running from his own problems and jumping into others- in the past he jumped into Teharel's business without concern for how his parents might worry, and in the present he overworks himself with the Blight so he doesn't have to cope with his emotions. For Aedan to finally admit that something's wrong with him is a huge step forward, but still only a step. He'll be going back to Denerim, and there he's going to have to face his past and his own inner demons as the man he's become. Appropriately, the next part is called Strength, and I'm going to try and answer the question: why does the Warden succeed where Loghain does not?

Bloodwolf432: I do feel bad for leaving the dog out most of the time- he did get that one scene a few chapters ago where Aedan played fetch with the deer meat though!

Warden Commander Oxford: Glad you enjoyed the last chapter!

TLMonkey: Haha yes, the dragon battle was very much inspired by the Sacred Ashes trailer, which I always loved. Unfortunately the last two weeks were a little busy, but hopefully I can crank out a new chapter within the next week.

SgtGinger: Writing the new Aedan is a breath of fresh air compared to the old one. And don't be worried about the ending of this chapter in regards to Aedan's attitude...it'll be an interesting growing process.

Jarjaxle: No yelling in the party camp, sorry, but we got a grim little conversation with Wynne. From the way I see it, everyone at that point could see how troubled Aedan was, and the last thing you want to do when someone's hurting is to make them feel worse. When Wynne rides up to Aedan, she still has on her lecturing face, but her tone is more sympathetic. As for his speech, that took the longest to write (several weeks) as I went through multiple iterations of it, but glad you thought it was scary!

chris1901: Thanks for the compliment, and glad you like the story!

TheBlueDragonWolf: Glad you like my take!

Tha Jizzle: Hopefully the wait won't increase, hoping to get the next chapter done in a week!

Sweaty Sub Zero: Got you fix right here man, hope you enjoy.

Next time, not actually starting the Landsmeet arc yet, but since we've had so much drama and suffering (with a little healing), the next chapter will be a more lighthearted interlude, similar to the CH28: Gift. Then things will get serious again.

As always, feel free to review, leave constructive criticism, or ask questions. See you next time!


	53. Grudges

**Part 7: Strength**

_Chapter 53: Grudges_

Morrigan couldn't sleep.

Not that she needed to be sleeping right now; the sun had already broken over the horizon and light peeked through the cracks in...his tent? Their tent? Morrigan rubbed her tired eyes and let the thought trail off. The man sleeping next to her snored once again. The resulting noise rumbled against Morrigan and echoed in her sleep deprived head. She thudded her forehead against the pillow repeatedly.

Yes, therein lay the reason she could not sleep. Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Aedan's slumbering face. It infuriated her how he could dare make such a face when his snoring had woken her up in the night. Another deep snore shook the tent. Morrigan resisted her burning desire to grab the man by the face and shake him awake as violently as she could. She smushed her hand against his face to try to turn him over. The man mumbled drowsily and lay still as a rock. Morrigan slumped her head in defeat.

Usually he only snored after a night of drinking. He still had insomnia and still often drank to help him sleep. Often times Morrigan would wake in the middle of the night to hear him having a nightmare, or to simply find him sitting up in bed staring into the distance. As if sleeping next to a woman would cure his insomnia, thought Morrigan. Twas the fancy of young maidens and their tales.

Still, at least he was sleeping a bit more, she thought, and that alone was worth it. She watched him sleep for a little bit longer before she heard the clattering of pots outside. The smell of slightly burnt bacon wafted inside.

"Hey! Breakfast is ready! We need to get going early so we can get into Denerim on time!" shouted Alistair, "Get up you two."

Aedan groaned half asleep. Morrigan felt his body shift against hers as he pulled the blanket tighter around the two. "Five more minutes," he muttered in his sleep.

Alistair pulled open the tent flap. By this point, he had no reaction to the two sharing a bedroll. Light trickled through the opening, and Aedan groaned at the sudden change. "Come on Aedan, we should really-"

The witch held her finger to her lips and silenced Alistair. He took a single look at Morrigan's slightly reddened face, rolled his eyes with a smile, and left the tent. The tent darkened again as the flap fell back into place. Aedan's arms were draped loosely around Morrigan, and she could very easily pry herself from his grip and start getting ready.

"Just five more minutes," she murmured, resting her head against his arms.

* * *

><p>While the others got ready, Aedan and Morrigan sat inside their tent. Morrigan hovered her glowing hands over his back and sighed. His wounds had opened up once again after recent scuffles with the darkspawn. The creatures had begun venturing from the south and scouting out their next destination. What had once been a few stragglers had turned into roaming squadrons of fully armed darkspawn. No longer could they avoid scuffles with the darkspawn while travelling.<p>

Morrigan brushed her hand over the rough stitches that still lay embedded in Aedan's body. Despite how unappealing they looked, they did their job and kept Aedan's wounds from completely opening back up. She traced her finger gently down the path of the bloodied scar, her magic sealing up the skin and flesh. "I told you to stop overusing that...whatever it is you do." She cursed that decrepit old mage for ever giving Aedan that vial.

Aedan grunted,"If I don't keep using it, I won't get better with it. It's like riding a horse."

"Well, it opens up your wounds each and every time you go too far, so guess who has to fix that up?"

"I'd rather err on the side of caution and be as prepared as possible for the Archdemon...but I appreciate what you're doing for me. Really." Aedan placed his hand on her wrist.

"Do not touch my hands while I'm healing you," spat Morrigan as she swatted him away.

"Sorry," said Aedan, rolling his eyes. Morrigan noticed this and sent a rather large surge of magic through one of his wounds. Aedan yelped as the magic flowed it, sending intense shivers down his spine as the wound healed at a much greater rate. She smirked at his discomfort and patted him once on the back.

"I can only heal so much...the rest is up to you," said Morrigan. She got up and collected her belongings before heading out into the clearing to meet the others.

Aedan leaned back on his bedroll and sighed. "The rest is up to me, huh?" he mused.

* * *

><p>He and Alistair still entered in their cloaks. By now, Eamon had actively started his campaign to help the Grey Warden's name, but already the sentiments regarding the order had changed from one year ago. News of Aedan and Alistair's deeds had spread throughout Ferelden. Thousands of refugees whom they had saved did far more than any public relations campaign could. Still, public opinion would not change the decree of the law: Grey Wardens were to be hunted down and arrested. The allure of money often won over people's moral standings.<p>

"At least they took the wanted posters down," muttered Aedan. He still marked the position of each of the guards while keeping his head down.

"And here I was looking forward to getting chased through the streets," said Alistair.

"Don't kid yourself. Loghain and Howe will have their dogs on us the moment nobody's looking."

The market district bustled with activity- more merchants and customers than ever crowded the streets. In particular, Aedan could see an increase of noblewomen out and shopping, and the goods offered were of higher class than usual. The Landsmeet tended to draw much more business into the city. Though many nobles found it a pain to travel all the way to the city, the citizens of Denerim certainly enjoyed the extra money. Though, thought Aedan, they might be a little more eager to come to this one considering the darkspawn were nipping at their ankles...or in the case of the South, had devoured them whole. In any case, the large crowd afforded the group suitable camouflage.

After navigating through the market district, Aedan rapped his knuckles against the wooden gate of Eamon's estate. He had never been inside, but he had often met up with his father outside this very gate after Eamon and Bryce had finished their business.

The guardsmen peeked through a slot in the gate and closed it right back up. The familiar sounds of a castle winch being worked rumbled through the air. The gate pulled up and Aedan saw the figure of Eamon and his family come out to greet him. Isolde had wrapped her arm into the crook of Eamon's shoulder. Connor barreled towards Alistair and greeted the templar with a hug of the legs.

"Uncle Alistair! You're here! It's so boring here without you."

"It can't be that bad," laughed Alistair.

"It's filled to the brim with all my father's politician friends and their depressing guardsmen," pouted Connor.

"Let's hide, shall we?" grinned Alistair at the lad and shooed the boy off.

Aedan greeted the Arl with a single nod.

"Eamon."

"Aedan."

Alistair walked up to Eamon and poked him in the belly. "You're looking significantly less, you know, comatose. You've been eating well. I know I'd be."

Eamon chuckled and poked Alistair back."Careful Alistair. We can't have one out of two of our Wardens being too chubby to fight."

Alistair's stomach growled and the templar sheepishly scratched his head. "Sorry, I'm just remembering the last time I was here and you had that cheese platter out."

"If you want, we can have the servants whip up the same thing."

The templar beamed."Something that I didn't tie up and burn black over a fire? Count me in." Realizing his words, Alistair glanced over at Aedan's serious expression and coughed into his mouth, and attempted to don a more business-like tone."Unless, you know, we should get down to business-"

"Just go eat," said Aedan, a small smile at the edge of his lips. Alistair quietly pumped his fist and strode as controlled as he could down the hallway. Isolde groaned under her breath and followed the templar to the kitchen. The maids and guardsmen arrived and began to escort Aedan's companions into the castle. Eamon quietly gestured Aedan to stay in the courtyard. Once all the others had left, Eamon patted Aedan on the side of the arm."How about you? You're looking a little better than the last time I saw you."

Aedan raised his eyebrow. "Really?"

"You're smiling a bit more."

"I've been sleeping a little bit more. Helps to not be so tired."

"Good. Let's talk in the study then-"

The gates of Eamon's estate shook with three resounding knocks.

"His Regency Loghain wishes for an audience with the Arl! Open these gates at once!"

Eamon and Aedan looked at each other. A nearby scout lept down from the estate walls and bowed before Eamon.

"How many?"

"He has a small platoon of guardsmen led by Ser Cauthrien, along with Arl Howe and his personal guard."

Aedan ran the possible situations through his head and instinctively reached for his sword."Do you think he's here to apprehend me and Alistair?"

"Maybe… or perhaps the guards are for security- your reputation precedes you, you know."

"You'd think killing hordes of darkspawn would grant me leniency, not suspicion." Aedan clenched his fingers against the hilt of the Cousland blade.

Eamon nodded to the scout. "Let them in." He looked gravely at Aedan. "Weapons away." Aedan complied and sheathed his word, albeit slowly and very reluctantly. The scout worked the winch and the gate began to rise.

You could tell a lot about a man by the way he entered a room, thought Aedan. Some, like Leliana, sought to be noticed as little as possible. She'd quietly wrap her hand around a doorknob, half-jiggle it expecting some trap, and then gracefully step through the doorway with silent footsteps. Her life as a bard never left her. Others, like Oghren, made as much noise as possible. Oghren's life as a dwarven berserker never left him. The dwarf would slam the door open and announce his presence to the entire room. Aedan didn't like bringing him on ambushes anymore.

Aedan watched carefully as Loghain methodically strode through the gate of Eamon's house. He didn't need to make a loud ruckus to make an impactful entrance. Each step he took had weight behind it. Each swing of his arms carried his momentum as he marched. It seemed he never took his eyes of Eamon and Aedan for a second, but after a year of hardship and battle, Aedan knew differently. In battle, you learned to use the vision in the corners of your eyes as well as that which lay directly in front of you. Aedan say the faintest shift of Loghain's vision to where Eamon's guards were, then back to the two.

Of course, Aedan had no time to simply be watching his foe. He too watched out of the corner of his eyes as Loghain's trusted lieutenants- Howe and Cauthrien, spread out from behind him. Aedan chose to look at Howe as little as possible- to gaze upon him too long would feed his festering wrath. Aedan needed to be in control. The one who would win this war, who would stop the Blight, would be one with control.

Aedan relaxed his fists and took a deep breath. The life of a Warden had taught his body to channel his anger and power, but his childhood had taught him how to compose himself. He cordially smiled as Loghain, Howe, and Cauthrien stood in front of him and Eamon. Out of the corner of his eye, Aedan saw Eamon do the same. None of the other three before them smiled back. Aedan implicitly understood- there was no need for pretenses. Aedan dropped his smile and replaced it with his usual tired expression.

"I did not expect to see you so soon, Loghain," greeted Eamon, putting both hands behind his back and straightening his posture.

Loghain furrowed his brow. His chin lifted upwards as he spoke. "And why would I not come see the man so important enough that he called every single noble away from their lands while the Blight ravages them?" But It is good to see that you are well. It seems miracles do exist." Loghain delivered the line with such relief and regality that one might have forgotten he had ordered Eamon poisoned.

"Yes...tis the work of my friend here. I think you know him?" Eamon gestured towards Aedan with the same courtesy he would a noble. Aedan and Loghain finally made eye contact. The muscles in Aedan's sword bearing arm unconsciously tightened. Aedan stared coldly back and gave Loghain a curt nod. Loghain narrowed his eyes and glared at Aedan. "I would ask why this criminal is here."

Aedan returned the hostility in kind, replying,"I could ask the same of you."

Cauthrien jerked her irate gaze towards Aedan. "How dare you speak to the Hero of River Dane like that?"

Aedan greeted the knight with a nod. "Ah, Ser Cauthrian, I remember you from Ostagar. You were there too." Aedan lifted his head back up and grined venomously. "Perhaps you can enlighten us as to what happened- it seems me and Loghain are at a disagreement."

Cauthrien's feet shifted against the ground as she glanced once at her liege. Doubt. Perhaps Aedan could prey on that. He made a note of that for later.

"What happened at Ostagar is a known fact. Your order betrayed King Cailan and got themselves and the royal army killed," spat Cauthrien with her voice a little higher. Yes, she still had her anger, however misguided it was, thought Aedan.

"Not only that, but this man here is the last of the Couslands. A family who conspired with the Orlesians against our country," slithered a familiar voice.

Aedan bit his tongue and chose to turn to Howe. Aedan been stabbed, crushed, set on fire, and yet none of these compared to the feeling of staring at that godforsaken smirk of Howe's. Blood rushed through his veins and he could feel the heat flush through his body.

Howe chuckled at Aedan like he would a small animal. "Good thing I had the sense to pull out these weeds while before they spread...although it seems the job was not finished."

Aedan ground his teeth. The sight of Oren's bloodied body flashed through his mind. He could hear his father struggling to speak through the blood that filled his throat. Aedan struggled to push his thoughts back down into the dark corners of his mind. His pounding heart slowed to a standstill.

"Howe, so good to see you again," smiled Aedan. He outstretched his hand to the man who had slaughtered his family. With the slightest hesistance, Howe grasped Aedan's hand. Aedan leaned in and whispered, "I'm going to enjoy gutting you like a pig." Aedan squeezed Howe's bony hand in a death vice.

"I'll kill you the same way I killed your parents. On all fours, like mutts," whispered Howe back as he returned the handshake in force.

The two released their handshake, stepped back, and smiled at one another with cordiality and malice.

"What have you come here to discuss, Loghain?" asked Eamon, "If you simply wished to say hello, I doubt all this...company was necessary."

Loghain leaned backwards and crossed his arms. "I would like you to stop this business of the Landsmeet. Surrender the Grey Wardens to me, and fall back under my command. We cannot afford to squabble while the Blight consumes us. Please Eamon." Loghain offered his hand out to Eamon.

"I think I will take my chances with the Wardens," breathed Eamon through his teeth as he struggled to hold back his disgust. This was the man who had poisoned him and indirectly caused the slaughter of much of his village.

Seeing that diplomacy would not work, he inquired "Where is Alistair?" His eyes darted about the courtyard. The guards shuffled outwards and peered around the castle grounds.

Eamon scowled at the brashness of Loghain's men. "Inside."

Loghain turned his cold glare back to Aedan. Aedan remembered a time when he had been so small he could only look upwards at the nobles at the Landsmeet. They seemed to him giants occupying a world that towered above his. Now he stood face to face with Loghain, meeting his gaze with equal force.

"This isn't nearly enough men to take me," whispered Aedan, "if that's what you were planning. And if you can't take me, you certainly won't be able to get inside to get Alistair."

Loghain took a step forward closer to Aedan and narrowed his eyes. "You think yourself a commander. A leader," he seethed. "When I met you in Ostagar, you weren't even a Warden yet, and yet weeks later you attempted to claim yourself as such. You are a sham, and more importantly, a brat who doesn't know when to hand over the reins to someone who knows what he's doing."

Aedan stood his ground and replied ,"We've all seen exactly what happens when you hold the reins, Loghain."

Loghain spoke, emphasizing each word with a cold determination:"I do what I do for my country."

Loghain and Aedan shared a second-long stare. Loghain waved off his guards. "Men! Let us be off. Clearly the Arl will not listen to reason. We will simply have to wait for the Landsmeet to end before we can truly be united." He shared one last glare at Aedan and Eamon. The Teyrn scoffed at the two and turned his back upon them. As they passed, many of the guardsmen scowled at Aedan and Eamon. "Disgusting," one whispered under his breath. Aedan bit his tongue as the last of them, as well as Loghain, Howe, and Cauthrien, left.

The gravity of their encounter left Aedan and Eamon speechless for awhile, until Eamon remarked, "That was rather unexpected," remarked Eamon. Aedan scowled with disgust at the past events. "Did he actually think that would work, or is he trying to antagonize us?" He narrowed his eyes and remembered Howe's smug smile and his comment about his parents. He gritted his teeth and seethed quietly,"Scratch that. He's antagonized me very well. "

"Howe," said Eamon. He glanced once once at Aedan, then back at the blue sky of Denerim.

"I smelt blood on him, and I doubt he's the kind of a man to fight for his people. He's been killing, or at least wounding somebody."

"Rumors have spread that Howe become more and more depraved ever since he became Teyrn."

The last time Aedan had seen Howe, he was with Aedan and his father meeting Duncan in the living room. He was smiling and talking politely while his men marched to come kill his closest friends.

Had he always been planning this? Did he ever truly think Aedan's family as friends?

Aedan had searched mentally for that moment where he changed, where he went from loving the Couslands to hating them, but could not find it. All he could remember was Howe's smile as that wretched man laughed with Bryce Cousland. Aedan wondered whether that was a testament to how well Howe could hide his treachery, or how naive and trusting the young man had once been.

"Do you know what happened to Castle Cousland?" asked Aedan in a hushed tone.

Eamon hesitated in his answer. "I have heard only rumors, as no one visits there. Most of the walls crumbled from the fire and assault. "

"What of their bodies?" Desperation tinged Aedan's trembling words. Eamon swallowed before replying, I don't know, I'm sorry, Aedan. I've only been awake for a few weeks, I haven't had time to investigate."

The warden grimaced with a bitter expression. "It's fine."

The conversation paused briefly while a servant handed Eamon a coat from behind. The cold wind had picked up. Eamon wrapped the wool coat around himself and shivered.

"I would give you a coat m'lord, but your armo-" stuttered the elf to Aedan.

"I'm fine, thank you," grunted Aedan. The servant scurried off as fast as his feet would take him.

"Do I scare them?" pondered Aedan aloud.

Eamon raised his eyebrow. "You scare me."

"Well. Let's hope I can scare a few more people by the time this is all over," said Aedan. He still shivered a bit as a strong gust of wind hit his armor, but he was used to it by now. The cold seeped deep to his bones and eased the pain in some his wounds.

Eamon hesitated with his next words. "Do you want to kill Howe?"

"Yes," stated Aedan, "Preferably sooner rather than later."

Eamon had not been lying to Aedan when he told the young man he was scared of him- the cold, dead look in Aedan's eyes sent chills down Eamon's spine. "It would not be the wisest decision to kill the Arl of Denerim, no matter how despicable he is. We need a good image. Loghain may even be counting on you to come after him so he can have cause to take you into custody."

Aedan frowned and tilted his head up towards the sky. He waited a bit to respond to Eamon. For once the sky was clear and the his surroundings quiet. He took a deep breath of the crisp air and asked,"Tell me. Do you want to kill Loghain?"

Eamon looked down at the ground and pondered. His heart twinged as he thought of the countless villagers of his who had died."I want him brought to justice. He is responsible for the death of countless innocents because of his pride. He left my nephew and our army to die. If the court of law dictates he be killed, then I won't complain."

"There's a difference though. Do you want to kill him, or do you want him dead?"

As memories of days long past flowed through his mind, Eamon spoke wistfully, "I don't think I could do it personally. Loghain...though he has done terrible things as of late, he has done much good as well. He fought by my side during the Orlesian Rebellions, and we would not be sitting here today if not for him. I could not swing the sword myself."

"So you think he at the very least deserves the court of justice. What of Howe?"

"Howe is a scoundrel. He will be hanged, I assure you, Aedan."

"So what separates Howe from Loghain? If we go by pure numbers, I'm fairly certain that Loghain has a higher body count of innocents."

"Loghain believes that what he does is for his country. Howe simply acts for himself. Loghain believes he acts on need and Howe acts on desire."

Aedan remembered Harrowmont's head rolling on the ground and that lurching agony in his stomach when the guards had told how many would die. "If only good intentions were enough to absolve oneself." Aedan instinctively reached for his flask and began to unscrew it. Just as he tilted it towards his mouth, he hesitated momentarily. After a moment's thought, he took one swig and corked the flask back.

Now with Howe's death a very real possibility, Aedan wondered whether it was a want or a need. Inside of him burnt a fury that sent rage pulsating through his veins. Inside of him sat a sadness that hampered his way forward. From the beginning, Howe's betrayal had propelled Aedan forward into his new life, and his family's death had weighed him down. His death had to be the solution to the feelings that festered inside of him- then he could finally deal with the Blight with his full focus. In that sense he needed to kill Howe, like a diseased man finding a cure, but when Aedan thought of wringing Howe's neck a smile flickered across his face.

* * *

><p><em>Westholme, thought Aedan in the most delicate words he could think of, was the most boring little village he had ever had the courtesy of stepping foot in. Granted, the small village population and the off-the-road location of the village itself made itself a perfect hiding spot for the bastard. Those same things also left the village square empty and the actual village looking more like a small collection of cottages.<em>

_"At least there's not a lot of places to look. Where do we start looking for him?" asked Aedan._

_"I don't think asking to local government officials would be correct...however moved the child here didn't want him to be found out. Telling the local government the bastard would be living here would start quite a spark. They wouldn't be able to keep it a secret." Bryce continued to peer around the village. One village boy say the pair and scurried back into his house before Bryce could ask him questions._

_"If I were hiding him," he pondered aloud, "I'd want the child to be well-protected, but have a strict, moral upbringing suitable for if he ever had to become king."_

_"So. the Chantry? Templars and multiple strict mothers."_

_"That'd be good place to start."_

_After several minutes of trying to find a single person about, Aedan and Bryce finally got directions to the Chantry. They took a winding path through one of the nearby farm lands to building much larger than the rest of the cottages. Aedan was surprised at the scale, and at the facilities. Outside the Chantry, what could be a whole squadron of templars drilled against practice dummies._

_"A lot of templars. I don't think we even have this many in Highever," observed Aedan. He noticed a pair of templars yelling at someone behind the horse stables. Clearly whoever had earned their ire had done so in the most annoying manner, as once the two templars stormed back from behind the stables, their expressions of exasperation had still not gone away._

_"Very suspicious."_

_After a few introductions with the templars outside, the Couslands were immediately rushed to the room of the Revered Mother. As they waited outside her quarters, Aedan peered around the Chantry. If someone was funding the templars, they certainly weren't funding the Chantry in turn- it looked the same as any other village he had visited, with the standard low-quality metal statue of Andraste and meager offerings placed by her feet._

_An elderly woman in chantry rones approached the two and bowed quietly."I have been told you have business with me," she croaked._

_The elder Cousland bowed back."Thank you, Revered Mother, for seeing us." The woman beckoned the two into her office and offered them seats. The wooden seats, made of old low-quality oak, creaked as the two sat down, but neither of the two Couslands minded._

_"Tis a honor seeing the Couslands themselves come out to our tiny village. What brings famous nobles such as yourselves here?" The revered mother smiled and set a tray of tea for the two. Aedan eagerly swiped a single biscuit from the tray._

_"We're investigating a missing child of an acquaintance of ours. Has your Chantry received any children into it's care?"_

_"The Chantry is a place for all the hungry and weary. Many orphans are brought to us. If they had parents, no doubt we would have brought the child back to them in order to lessen our burden and be able to accommodate the more needy."_

_"I mean several years ago, perhaps given to you by a government official?"_

_The side of the revered's mother face twitched ever so slightly, but she maintained her bright smile and asked, "I don't believe any such."_

_Bryce palmed his hands together, then drummed his index fingers against one another."Are you sure? We've received information that he was indeed brought to this village."_

_The revered mother went silent and narrowed her eyes at both Aedan and his father. Bryce Cousland sighed at her obstinance. "I will speak plainly. We are looking for King Maric's bastard. There are people, dangerous people, looking for him. I don't know why, but there are willing to kill to find him. He's not safe here if they come looking for him."_

_"Trust me lady, I have gone through a lot of trouble to make sure the wrong people didn't find him...people have died for this."_

_The Revered Mother frowned and sighed, "I told Eamon I'd keep the boy safe. He plopped him in this here chantry around when he was young. Been here ever since. I don't know if this is some political move by the Couslands, but this boy deserves better."_

_"I assure you, this is not a political move by us. We just need you to assure the child's safety. You don't need to tell us where you move him, but you just need to make sure that he is well protected."_

_The elder woman quietly considered Bryce's words. After a long pause, she said, "Alright. I will consider this. The Couslands have always been friends of the Crown, and I do not think you would risk coming here and telling me this for any other reason."_

_Bryce and the Revered Mother nodded at one another. "Tell me about him. The bastard," asked Bryce out curiosity._

_The revered mother rubbed her temples for a moment and replied with a half-smile, half frown of exasperation, "Oh Al-"_

_Aedan held up his hands and interrupted, "Don't tell me us his name. It's better if we don't know."_

_"Seems rather impolite to call him bastard for the rest of the conversation, don't you think," laughed the revered mother. Aedan chuckled a little- he didn't expect the revered mother to have a sense of humor about this, even more so considering that the presence of the bastard brought risk to the entire village._

_"He's in training to become a templar. He's a kind boy with a good soul. A little naive at times, but that's a good thing. He can be eccentric at times- one time he just started screaming in the chantry when he thought it was empty, just to see whether anyone was there." The revered mother smiled at Aedan."He seems a little like you."_

_The young man made a sour face and crossed his arms."Considering that screaming story, I'm not sure if that's a good thing."_

_Bryce shot a scolding glance at his son. Aedan rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms. Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, Bryce asked, "You think he'd be a good king?"_

_"He lacks political tact, and sometimes he doesn't quite read the subtext in people's interactions. He's not a very sly boy...but I think that's a good thing. Sometimes you need someone straightforward. Someone who will, despite everybody else playing a different game, barge in and say his mind."_

_"So he's like Cailan."_

_"Very much so, but I think our little bastard would be a better king. He understands what it is like to live a life of hardship. Growing up without parents, he understands what is like for the less fortunate. I sincerely hope that that he never has to become king though. Tis more a duty than a privilege."_

_"Many things are," said Bryce sadly._

_"Would you do me a favor?" asked the woman. She reached under her desk and withdraw a small lockbox. She took a key from around her neck and slid it inside the lock. The box clicked open and the revered mother carefully removed the contents._

_"The man who brought the child here...gave me a package wrapped in lambskin. He said that whoever came looking for the bastard might come looking for this. If he can be tracked down...then so can this. Perhaps it is better if we move it as well."_

_The lambskin package. The translations from Teharel's documents had mentioned it. Aedan took the package and opened it up. Inside was a letter, closed by three wax seals- Eamon, Maric, and Loghain. Opening up the letter, however, did not seem prudent, considering that doing so would break the wax seals. Aedan handed the letter to his father, who examined the seals rather carefully. "These are definitely the seals of Eamon, Maric, and Loghain. A good seal can't be replicated, and I've seen their's a hundred times over."_

_"The two of you can probably guess what's inside there."_

_Bryce nodded gravely and pocketed the package."Yes...let us not speak anymore of this. Good day, revered mother." He and Aedan got up and bowed once again to her, before heading out the Chantry doors._

_Once the tumultuous pair had left, the revered mother sighed and rested her forehead between her hands. Certainly, the bastard had no fondness for Chantry life, but he would also not appreciate being moved to another one for what would seem to him petty reasons. After a few minutes of ruminating on the topic, an idea popped into her head. Perhaps, instead of just moving him, she would let the young man decide next where his future lay._

_The older woman opened her drawer and took out another an opened envelope with a griffon seal on it. She scanned the contents again, then dabbed her quill in ink. "To Duncan of the Grey Wardens," she said aloud as she wrote, "I write to inform you that I have heard your request for potential recruits, and have decided to take several promising candidates to your tournament."_

* * *

><p>Later that evening, Aedan approached the room that the servants had assigned to him. Eamon had graciously given him use of one of the larger guest rooms, meant for more than one person. The older man had smiled wickedly and slapped Aedan on the back. Aedan was surprised that Eamon had picked up on him and Morrigan. Though she spent the nights in his tent, outside of the tent she still restrained herself from public displays of affection. When she had arrived at the castle, she had simply disappeared out of sight. A noble's estate did not hold much interest for her. Aedan guessed she was in her animal form right now, exploring the surrounding areas of the city.<p>

Aedan opened the door to find the room empty and dark, save for a stray ray of moonlight that illuminated the wood floor. Aedan threw his bedroll and things by the side wall, then approached the main bed. He brushed his fingertips over the soft wool blanket. The bedding had plainer colors than Eamon's own castle, but the quality of the fabric still impressed Aedan. He could tell Isolde had spared no expense on the thread count. Under normal circumstances, one should feel comfortable sleeping in it. Still, he had not been able to feel right in the beds in Eamon's estate. Still uncertain as to whether to sleep in the bed, Aedan began to pace back and forth between the bed and his rolled up bedroll.

Irritated at his own indecision, Aedan muttered,"I'm being ridiculous, I've slept in beds for the majority of my life". He halted in front of the bed. His body tensed up as he swallowed his breath. Aedan then forced himself to plop face first into the bed. He tried his best to simply lay still on the soft mattress, but cold shivers shot through his blood the longer he did. Subjected to so many high-stress battles, his body was rejecting the very idea of laying in a bed. Relaxing meant complacency. Complacency meant death. Death meant failure for the one task he was alive for.

Reviled, Aedan scrambled back off the bed. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. He pressed his clammy hands against his forehead. "Goddamnit," he whispered weakly.

Three loud knocks shot through the air. "M'lord, Eamon has urgent news in the study!"

Aedan wiped his forehead and sighed. "Thank the Maker," he muttered under his breath.

Once Aedan had made his way to the study, he found Eamon and an elven handmaiden there. For a servant, the elf wore rather fine clothes. Aedan didn't think Eamon had elves dressed in such fineries., so she must not have been one of his. The elf tugged on her frayed black hair nervously as Aedan inspected her.

"Care to introduce me?" asked Aedan to Eamon, still not taking his suspicious gaze off of the elf.

"This is Erlina, the queen personal handmaiden. Apparently, Arl Howe has locked Anora in his estate," stated Eamon, with a little disbelief in his tone.

Aedan and Eamon both turned to Erlina for an explanation. The elf, clearly not used to such direct gazes from nobles, cowered a bit. In her distraught state, this extra anxiety did not help. It took her a few moments more to compose herself- she straightened her back, a took a deep breath, and let her hands fall to her side. Aedan was impressed how quickly she did so. Perhaps life as the queen's handmaiden had prepared her for such things.

"We have all had our doubts regarding Ostagar," she started, "and how this country has been run since, but Anora has been asking too many questions regarding her husband's death as of late. Howe has taken notice of this and locked her away...perhaps even to kill her. I barely managed to escape his guards and come to you." Her voice trembled as she looked back the two with pleading eyes.

"Not even Howe's that stupid," mused Aedan, "Although if anyone were to do something like that, it would be him."

Eamon scratched his chin as he calculated all the possible scenarios. "Does Loghain know about this?" asked Eamon.

"I am not sure," replied Erlina, "He has cooperated with many of Howe's schemes, but I do not think he would stoop so low as to kill his own daughter. I do not think he would throw away even that last shred of honor.

Aedan and Eamon shared a glance. The two quietly left Erlina inside of the study and went to speak outside in the hallway.

"Should we even trust her?" spoke Aedan in hushed whispers. "This could be a trap."

"We can't afford to take that chance. Anora could tip the tides in our favor if we play our cards right. Worse, if Howe does end up killing her, they may even pin her death on you and Alistair."

Aedan paused to process this new information. Now even Eamon could no longer stand by and let Howe exist while he threatened the kingdom in such a blatant manner. The edge of Aedan's lip twitched. His head pounded as the blood rushed through his body. Finally, after so long, he would have his revenge. Aedan breathed out a muted, half-chuckle. "Eamon. You know exactly what's going to happen if you send me in there."

The older man shuddered involuntarily at Aedan's bloodlust filled words. He looked sadly upon Aedan. He remembered when the young boy had been scampering by his father's feet, laughing and begging his father to come play. Now towering over the ghost of that boy stood a cold man with bloodthirsty eyes. "I know," said Eamon quietly. "Do what you need to do."

"Of course," said Aedan. His hands still remembered the feeling of Howe's hand in his. Aedan clenched his fist as though to crush the man's bones between his.

"I'll do exactly what needs to be done."

* * *

><p>And we're back! Sorry about the long wait, I've had another one of those hectic work periods in my life. Hopefully things are more settled now. As always, feel free to leave reviews, constructive criticism, or questions! See you all next time!<p>

Brochaco1: Haha it did take awhile for more of that romance. As we near towards the end we'll see alot more of that too hopefully.

Zacharti: Glad you enjoyed the talks! For me, those two conversations were one of the most important to write so it took me awhile to nail them down.

mordreek: Glad you think I'm writing the characters realistically!

13Commander: You're right in that it was very important that Aedan realizes that he has a problem. In this chapter you see that he still has much of that problem with him, and the next few chapters will be about overcoming it (hopefully)

Guest: Having Aedan be called human made me extra giddy! From the very beginning, I had a specific character development arc planned for him, so I try my best to add the depth and character to make that arc work.

577249: Glad it's one of your favorites!

Jarjaxle: No fight unfortunately, sorry. The way I see it, everybody there realized something was off with Aedan, and they didn't want to kick a man while he was down. As for Aedan's self-sacrifice plan...we'll see how that goes.

Suffering Soldier: Sorry about running long between this update, but I'm glad I got you so engrossed in the story!

Zehel2010: Glad you enjoyed the piece! We'll see a couple of characters from the secondary storyline for sure- we are stopping by the alienage after all…

redrosemary: Well you won't have to wait long for the Howe scenes, because that's next chapter. Stay tuned.


	54. Wrath

**Part 7: Strength**

_Chapter 54: Wrath_

As much as Aedan hated to admit it, Zevran was right. Many months ago, the elf had told Aedan that the killing would get easier- that his hands would stop shaking, and the guilt would only visit sparingly. Aedan grunted as he pulled his sword out a man's throat. Talisen, apparently, was his name. Aedan hadn't cared too much. He stopped the group in the alleyways of Denerim, backed up by his fellows Crow. Zevran had had the opportunity to rejoin them. Together in that dingy alleyway Zevran had stood back to back with Aedan against an onslaught of Crow blades. If Aedan had ever doubted Zevran's loyalty, those doubts had died along with the Crows.

Still, Aedan wondered what would have happened if Zevran had turned against him and taken Talisen's offer. Would Aedan have then killed Zevran as easily as Talisen and his men? At the very least, he considered the elf a comrade, perhaps even a friend. As Aedan glanced at Zevran. his mind instantly wandered to how he could take down the elf as quickly as possible. He was fast, and could probably get behind Aedan faster than he could turn around. Most likely Aedan would try to protect his back against a wall and try to force the confrontation into a direct battle. From there, he'd use his superior strength to cleave-

Aedan slapped the side of his face gently twice. He was doing it again- planning for possibilities that had not yet happened. Zevran smiled sadly as he took his place next to Aedan. "I know that look, and what you're thinking. Tis common in my business."

Aedan half-chuckled, half-sighed. "Ah."

"I would not blame you for doing so, if I had chosen him over you."

"I think my problem is what I'd feel afterwards."

"Hmm." Zevran stared wistfully at the dead Crows beneath his feet. He closed his eyes and paused in silence. He clutched something inside of his pocket, then whispered something to the air.

"You okay?" asked Aedan.

"It is not these who give me pause. I am simply remembering someone else who was." Zevran took a deep breath in and clapped his hands together. "Let us be off. I've had enough of the Crows for one lifetime. Let them think that lifetime ended here."

Aedan turned his gaze towards the Crows dead bodies. The outline of a coin purse peeked out of one Crow's pocket. "Sorry," whispered Aedan. He could not bury everybody he came across, nor could he afford to show them the basic respect of leaving their belongings. He had places to be and armies to fund. He rummaged through the man's pocket and slipped the gold coins into his own.

* * *

><p>Inside the Arl's estate, Morrigan tugged at the splintmail armor now fastened to her chest. She fidgeted about in the armor, and sighed when she realized it would not get any more comfortable. "This guard's armor is a little...constrictive."<p>

After checking the nearby hallways for other guards to make sure it was okay to talk, Aedan glanced down at Morrigan. "Certainly protects you more."

The witch frowned and emitted a low grumble. "Is that supposed to be a veiled criticism of my usual garb?"

"No," stated Aedan. "Veiled would mean I was trying to hide it. I'm not."

"I've told you this before, armor constricts my spell casting and fatigues me physically."

"...Not even some leather? At least in the chest area near the heart?"

Morrigan glared at Aedan with the same fury she usually reserved for Alistair. Aedan raised his hands in the air and sighed. "Alright, I'm dropping it."

The witch scowled and muttered,"Tis the only time I've ever heard a man ask a woman to cover up her chest area."

The weary servants eyed Aedan and the others as they passed through the kitchen. The elves saw much more than the nobles gave them credit for. While guards rotated in and out, the kitchen staff stayed the same. Aedan glared back in silence, hoping that the elves would not pester them. In truth, it seemed they had other problems; dry lips, beleaguered cheeks, and pale skin seemed to indicate malnourishment. Howe certainly wasn't keeping his kitchen staff fed.

Aedan signaled for Leliana to take the front and Zevran to cover their rear. The queens room was up ahead. Once they rounded the corner however, they found a glowing blue magical barrier pulsating in front of the door.

"Hello? Is that you, Erlina?" shouted a voice from behind the door.

"Yes, your higness, it is me. I have brought rescuers, sent by Eamon. It is the Warden."

"The Warden." The queen's voice cut off for a bit, before she asked, "Warden, can you get me out of here?"

Aedan turned to Morrigan with an unspoken question. The witch brushed her hand over the barrier and gently flicked at it. "I do not think it wise to simply hurl magic at the barrier. I do not of it's origin, and tampering with it could cause an explosion, perhaps killing your precious queen."

"So what can we do?"

"Easy. We kill the person casting it."

"Sounds easy enough," grunted Aedan. He turned back to the shimmering barrier and said, "We'll be back soon after we've taken care of the mage."

Just as the group had turned their backs on the barrier, Aedan heard the queen's voice from behind the door call out,"Is your name Aedan?"

Aedan paused midstep. "Yes," he replied back.

"Then I expect you'll have no qualms dealing with Howe."

"No, I don't think I will," muttered Aedan as he unsheathed his sword.

* * *

><p>The dungeon only confirmed Aedan's suspicions regarding Howe's fall into depravity. Countless torture victims stashed away in the darkest corners of the castle. Innocent men and women, some of whom had been here for months, cried in happiness when Aedan had released them.<p>

No more. Aedan woud not let Howe spend another second in this world.

Aedan kicked down the door leading the source of the magic. There, staring him back, with that infuriating smug smile, was Howe. The man chuckled and shook his head."Ah little Aedan Cousland, still trying to fit into daddy's boots."

Aedan narrowed his eyes and snarled in greeting,"Howe."

Howe's chest shook as he let loose an infuriating laugh. "Shouldn't that be 'Uncle Howe'? Isn't that what you always used to call me?"

"You don't really think you're getting out of this alive, are you?"

"I could say the same to you. The rest of men will soon be swarming this estate, as well as the royal guard. I'm a very important man. The only way you're getting out of here is if you don't cause too much trouble. You kill me, you die as well."

"Do you know this man?" asked Morrigan from behind Aedan. Howe's eyes lit up like boy on his birthday.

"Did he never tell you?" laughed Howe, "Poor little Aedan Cousland, last of his house. Had to watch as I killed his entire family and burnt his life to a crisp?"

Morrigan and Leliana turned to stare at Aedan. Zevran looked away at the ground. Aedan gripped his sword till his hand went numb. Sweat dripped down his forehead. His heart beat against his chest like a war drum, calling for Howe's blood.

Howe brushed the tip of his dagger with his finger."I made your mother kiss my feet and beg for your father's life," he sneered.

With a low growl, Aedan pointed his sword in Howe's direction. "Howe, you're making me very angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

"Oh no!" mocked Howe, "Looks like I created a monster. I'm trembling." The older man threw his hands up mockingly in the air and rolled his eyes. Aedan couldn't quite understand why Howe didn't understand the danger he was in. Had his mind finally gone senile and convinced him he could kill Aedan.

"Men. Show him what a true Teyrn's guard can do."

Ten guards rushed at Aedan and the others. Two fireballs barrelled towards Aedan's group. Morrigan slammed her staff into the ground, erecting a bubble of protective energy about them. The fireballs exploded against the barrier and rocked the room to it's core. Aedan could still feel the residual heat even inside the barrier. More fireballs and bolts of energy rained down upon them as Howe's guards inched in closer towards the barrier. Aedan glanced at Morrigan, a single bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. "On three," growled Aedan, knowing that Morrigan was capable of holding the barrier as long as they needed..She held up the barrier with only one hand, and with the other began to gather a swirling vortex of magic in her palm.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

Morrigan thrust her left hand into the barrier. The mass of energy in her left dissapated into the barrier. The barrier turned violent red and pulsed once before exploding outwards and slamming the approaching guards into the walls.

Howe's executioners, on his right and left, slid their massive battle axes against the stone floor and uppercut at the same time. Zevran and Aedan lept backwards in unison. Two arrows zipped past Aedan and Zevran's heads and into the executioners. Zevran rolled to the side behind a mage and slit his throat. Without skipping a beat, he threw the mage's body in the path of a bolt of lightning fired by the other, and whipped his dagger into his attacker's throat.

Howe found himself standing alone in the broken remains of his guard. Aedan could see his dagger shaking within his hands."And that's just what my friends can do," breathed Aedan as he coldly stepped over the bloodied bodies.

"No matter, I can still kill you! I fought at the battle of River Dane! I killed the rest of your family, you are nothing to me!" Howe's confidence from mere moments ago had left him, and instead left a trembling old man. Aedan grinned at Howe. He outstretched his arm, and let his sword clatter to the ground. "A sword's too good for you."

"That pride will be your down-"

Howe charged, only for Aedan to slam his foot into the man's chest. Aedan lunged forward and wrenched Howe's daggers from his a weak grip, thought Aedan. Such a weak man.

"I told you, Howe, didn't I? I'd gut you like a pig- and what better to gut a pig with than a kitchen knife?" seethed Aedan as he slammed his fist into Howe's chest. He could the man's rib's crack beneath his blow. The man crumpled to the ground. Aedan whipped out Nan's knife and stabbed it straight into Howe's outstretched hand. The man howled as the blood gushed out from the wound and splattered across the ground.

Aedan grabbed Howe by the neck and slammed him against the wall, over and over again. First directly in the face, then in the back of the head, then on the side, until the man's face was broken and bloodied. Finally, Aedan grabbed Howe by the neck with both hands in a deathgrip. Howe's neck cracked beneath Aedan's grip. Howe's face began to go blue. Aedan let up his grip a little and snarled at the man,"Did you even feel an inkling of remorse?"

Howe's weak cough twisted into a hearty chortle. "Did...I ever tell you what I did with the bodies?" His eyes glinted with malice. "I left them there to rot, like old meat from the market. The birds are probably having a feast of them right now as we speak- probably have for the last year."

Aedan's breath left him. His hands had gone numb. Howe crumpled against the wall as Aedan unconsiously released his grip. Through clenched teeth Aedan whispered,"You left them as food." His dark hair covered his downcast eyes, hiding his expression from Howe.

His uncle weakly leaned his head backwards and laughed. "Typical little Cousland. You hear one comment about your family and you let your guard down."

Howe pushed himself off the wall and pulled out a hidden dagger. As Aedan lifted his eyes back up, Howe saw his face contorted in silent fury. Aedan grabbed both of Howe's hands by the wrists. He spoke in a low growl, like a barely contained beast about to devour it's prey. "You know...I've learnt a rather neat trick since we've last met."

The smell of tainted blood filled the room. The veins on Aedan's neck darkened and pulsated as Aedan clenched his teeth. Aedan, with all the rage and strength he could muster, crushed Howe's feeble wrists between his gauntlets. Warm red flesh dripped down the cold metal like pulp. Howe's screams reverberated in Aedan's ears.

"Now tell me...why." Aedan grabbed Howe by the collar and slammed him against the wall again. He picked up Nan's knife and held it once more against the man's throat."TELL ME!"

Although barely alive, Howe still had the ferocity in his spirit to bare his bloodstained teeth. "I deserved more," he croaked, "your father got it all! The teyrnship, the respect, the power- your family squandered the privilege given to you!"

Almost no color remained in Howe's face anymore. "I deserved more. I deserved more. I deserved more," he whispered over and over again. He tried to reach for something, anything, with his arms, as though forgetting his hands were no longer there. Cold sweat dripped down his battered face as he let go of the last vestiges of his dignity, and with everything he had left him, roared, "I DESERVED MORE!"

Howe's snarled and spat at Aedan like a wild beast. His spit hit Aedan in the face and dripped down his cheek. In that moment, as Aedan looked upon the almost feral Howe, his grip on his knife faltered. He had imagined this moment over and over again in his head. He had expected the satisfaction of revenge to run warm through his blood. He had expected...more.

As Aedan pressed the knife's edge against Howe's throat, the insides of his stomach churned and twisted. There was nothing different about this kill from any other. Killing Howe would not let him sleep at night. Killing Howe would not lessen the weight of his burdens.

"If I kill you...nothing will change. You'll still be the same old disgusting scumbag as before. They'll still be dead. Nothing will change," whispered Aedan sadly.

But the man still needed to be put down.

Aedan slammed Nan's knife into Howe's throat. The man gurgled up blood. He coughed and splashed the crimson liquid against Aedan. Howe scraped his bloodied stump against Aedan's armor one last time, painting a scarlet streak across the dark grey. Aedan stood there silently watching the life drain from Howe. This moment, one that should have been a grand vengeance, a shining beacon of justice, felt empty and shallow. All he could think about was the dead bodies of his family rotting in the open.

Aedan turned Nan's knife over in his hand and ran his finger down the bloodied edge; it had dulled from killing so many. Whetstones had already ground the metal down to a ghost of what the knife had once been. It would not be of much use any longer.

His mouth moved as though to say something to Howe, but the words remained stuck in his throat. Instead, Aedan wordlessly tossed Nan's blood covered knife to the ground next to Howe's body.

* * *

><p>Erlina stood outside the queen's door fidgeting. "The guards are swarming the estate! We must hurry!" she stuttered. With two rapid knocks against the door from Erlina, Anora undid the lock and entered into the hallway. In her guardsmen disguise, Aedan barely recognized her, but looking closely enough he still recognized her face, having seen it from a distance at many a gathering.<p>

"Aedan Cousland. So it is you," remarked Anora. She eyed his bloodied gauntlets and gulped once. Aedan could swear he saw the famously composed queen flinch for a moment. Anora's gaze returned to face level. Her stare reminded Aedan of Loghain, with cold steely eyes and a tight frown. "I assume Howe was taken care of."

Leliana glanced at Aedan. "So what Howe said about you being a Cousland was-."

"We can talk about this after. Rescuing the queen takes priority."

Really, what was there to talk about? Aedan could sum up his experience in one sentence. His family was murdered, then he became a Grey Warden. Done. He reviled the idea of talking about it for more than one minute.

He glanced at Morrigan, who had been quiet throughout the entire exchange. Their eyes met briefly . She understood- he would talk about it at the appropriate time and place. Still, he could see a twinge of curiosity in her pondering eyes. Perhaps she was hurt that others knew more about him than she.

The stamping of feet and clinking of swords grew louder with each passing second. "What's your plan to sneak out of here?" asked Anora. Just then a guard rounded the corner, only to meet the butt of Aedan's sword.

"I'm not very good at stealth," grunted Aedan, scraping the bottom of his sword against the tapestry on the wall to get the blood out.

Anora sighed. "I am filled with confidence."

"Just...stay behind me and keep quiet," grunted Aedan, pushing the queen behind him. He peered around the corner to find the hallway surprisingly empty. "Zevran, take the rear. Everyone, sprint!"

The group rushed down the hallway and into the main courtyard. The sound of a dozen crossbows being cocked and twice as many swords being unsheathed made Aedan immediately regret the decision. A mass of guards stood in front of the main doors, led by Loghain's general, Ser Cauthrien. "Stand down!" shouted the woman.

Fifty guardsmen. Aedan's group might be able to take them alone, but Aedan doubted that these guardsmen, who were simply following orders, deserved death. The main issue was the disguised queen, who was currently trying her best to stand behind the others and look inconspicuous. She and Aedan both understood what would happen if she was caught with them..

Cauthrien scowled at Aedan."I knew that Loghain could not be wrong. You Grey Wardens are just murderers aren't you? Come to kill a Teyrn in his own home? Are you even human?"

Aedan considered his words."And what, Ser Cauthrien," he spoke with caution, "are you here for?"

Cauthrien narrowed her eyes."You, preferably alive. Loghain want to question Ferelden's greatest criminal, perhaps gain some information to finally end this civil war once and for all."

Aedan regarded her question with a quiet moment of contemplation. His eyes darted around, examining all possible strategies. There was nothing for Anora to take cover behind, and even if he told her to flee down a hallway, there was no guarantee other guards wouldn't find her there. Aedan swallowed once. Aedan met eyes at Zevran, and pointed at Morrigan with his gaze. The elf nodded once and took out a small paper packet from his pocket. The elf sidestepped behind Morrigan as she continued to stare down the troops before her.

"You only have a warrant out for the Grey Wardens, correct?" asked Aedan.

It took a second for Morrigan to register what Aedan was implying, but when she did, her hands began to glow with fiery wrath. Still not taking her eyes off her enemies, the witch snarled, "Aedan, what are you sayin-"

Zevran's hands shot from behind and cracked the packet under her nose. A noxious smell lingered faintly in the air. The witch slumped over and collapsed into Zevran's arms. Aedan dropped his sword and kicked it over to Leliana, then held both his hands above his hand. The bard kneeled down and looked back up at Aedan. Her hand hesitated over the hilt.

"Go," Aedan urged. Ser Cauthrien glared at the rest of Aedan's group, and with a begrudging scowl she pointed to the main exit. Aedan watched the others make a cautious retreat. Once he heard the main gates slam shut, two guards pushed Aedan onto his knees and yanked his hands behind his back. Two more brought a length of heavy metal chain to tie him up with, and handed it to Cauthrien. The rather strong woman tightened the chains so hard around him, Aedan felt all his breath leave him.

Ser Cauthrien pulled him up the the chains and drew out a paper with Loghain's seal on it. Though she spoke with a strong tone, she would not meet Aedan's eyes as she read his charges.

"Aedan Cousland, by the authority given to me by Regent Loghain, for your family's plotting with the Orlesians, your order's betrayal of the king, and countless other murders, you are now under arrest."

* * *

><p>Why are you reading this you should be staring at your screen getting hyped for Inquisition. PSA for those of you that don't know, you can use a Korean VPN to unlock the Origin digital version at 10AM EST tommorow, and Origin staff have confirmed you can do this. Google "korean vpn dragon age" and you should be golden.<p>

Have fun guys.


	55. Reasons

**Part 7: Strength**

_Chapter 55: Reasons_

Sometime after the fifth session of getting beaten with a wooden pole, Aedan felt as though the pain dulled. Then they brought out the metal rod for the sixth. He didn't like that one as much, he thought as blood dripped down his maimed body. He did however prefer it to the waterboarding. But definately not the metal spikes.

He concentrated instead on the hazy anger lingering in his head. His nostrils flared. Howe's words rung in his head- his family's bodies were just laying around for the beasts to feast upon. They deserved better. From the very beginning they deserved better. The entire time that he had been away, he had left them rotting in the cold. He needed to give them funeral rites and a proper pyre. Aedan gritted his teeth as he felt blood trickle down his torso. He was going to get out of here, and he was going to take care of what he should have a long time ago.

His torturer slammed the rod against his back again. Aedan couldn't ascertain the man's expression through his black hood. Perhaps the torturer actually enjoyed this line of work. Perhaps he was ashamed. Either way the man had some reason to torture Aedan. Maybe it pays well, thought Aedan, Enough so that he can do work he hates- or perhaps he did it at a lower cost and truly believed he was doing good work. Every man had his reasons to do terrible things. This man had his. Aedan had his- and as he saw out the corner of his eye Loghain walk through the dungeon door, Aedan tried to fathom the reasons Loghain had.

"He's quite durable," grunted the torturer, "Still won't talk." He brought down the metal rod upon the side of Aedan's torso. Aedan clenched his teeth as he felt one of his ribs break. The Teyrn whispered in the guards ear. The guards nodded at everyone else in the room, each one saluting Loghain in turn before marching out the door. Aedan let his throbbing head fall back towards the ground."Was wondering when you'd come by," chuckled Aedan before breaking into a fit of coughing. Red flecks splattered against the decrepit stone flooring.

Loghain unhooked Aedan's handcuffs from the ceiling and kicked him down to the ground. Loghain reached into the bag and threw a flask and some bread at him.

"Eat," growled Loghain, who drew his sword at Aedan. The general was not so dumb as to be in the same room as Aedan without his weapon. "They tell me you have not eaten in awhile."

"I'm surprised," remarked Aedan as he gulped down the dirty water in the flask and stuffed the bread into his mouth. Aedan still could not taste things, but his overwhelming hunger overrode his sense of taste. The water soothed his parched throat. "I'd think in the good guard, bad guard, situation, you'd be the bad guard, not the one giving me food and water."

Loghain held his hands behind his back and began to pace the cell."It seems beating the answers out of you won't work in time, leaving only one other method: appeal to your better judgement, if you have one." Loghain turned sharply on his heel and his foot snapped down on the pavement. "Where is my daughter?" he asked with a booming voice.

"I keep telling you, I don't know. I saved her from Howe, then you captured me as we helped her to escape." Aedan took advantage of finally being able to sit and leaned against the cell walls. Loghain dragged a wooden stool in front of Aedan. He sat himself down on it to face the bloodied Warden.

"Do you love this country?" asked Loghain, his elbows on his knees and leaning his nose against his clasped hands. He tapped his index fingers together as he watched Aedan process the question. His mind a little scrambled, Aedan took several seconds before answering: "Of course."

Loghain spoke with the quiet, throaty tone of a weary soldier: "I love this country. This people are resilient and hard working. Our communities are strong and supportive. They care not for niceties and overly fancy garb like the Orlesians. We do not dress up politics and call it 'the Game', as though it were something to win. For Fereldens, politics has always been a means to an end of strengthening our country and helping it's people. And unlike our neighbors to the north, the Free Marches, we have put aside our differences time and time again to unite against common threats. There is a strength in the Ferelden blood unlike any nation to ever stand in Thedas."

The teyrn picked his sword back up. He placed the edge of his blade inches away from Aedan's throat. "I love my country, I will not see you or anyone else destroy it. Surrender...give me command of the armies you've gathered and turn yourself in."

Despite the raw pain that lingered in his body, Aedan still had enough energy to scoff with hostility."This country is tearing itself apart because of you...because you let Ostagar happen!" he shouted, his body moving forward as he did.

Loghain inched his sword forward a bit to deter Aedan. Aedan paused, looked at the edge of the sword, and leaned back against the cell walls. Loghain spoke with that same weary tone: "I pulled out of there to avoid more lives being lost. You saw the size of that horde- and there was not even an archdemon. We would have thrown away the entire Fereldan army in a battle that didn't even matter. That is worst way to insult a man's life- to send him to die needlessly."

"You left the king to die," coughed Aedan, "You could have sent a small battalion to extract him-"

"He should not have been down there in the first place. If he had listened to me, I would not have had to withdraw. I cannot value one man's life over the lives of a thousand!" The Teyrn stood back up and snatched a bundle of papers laying on the nearby table. "Is this just going to be you questioning everything I've ever done? Or perhaps we should talk about what you've done." Loghain flipped over the papers and perused the charges.

"We know what happened at Orzammar- how you allowed the entire House Harrowmont to be sacrificed for your precious army. Many of them weren't even soldiers." Loghain looked down at Aedan and shook his head.

Aedan fell silent. The only sound in the chamber was his blood dripping onto the cold stone floor. "I know exactly what I've done," he croaked, "and I take full responsibility for my actions. I'm not going to pretend it wasn't me who made that decision- and that's what makes us different. You lied about the Grey Wardens getting the king killed and shifted the blame of the decision from you to them."

"It was necessary. The people needed someone to blame, and if they blamed me, how could I lead this country against the Blight? I have told you. Everything I do, I do for this country. To protect it from those who would see it destroyed, Blight or otherwise."

"The Orlesians Grey Wardens...weren't going to betray us -and still aren't going to betray us. Let them through the borders to help us."

Loghain laughed scornfully."And how would you know that? You weren't there, when I saw your so called order nearly kill King Maric. Your order doesn't give a damn about what happens to Ferelden, they just want to eliminate the Blight."

"They can't help because you won't let any Orlesian aid past the borders!"

"And let them burrow their way into Ferelden again, like parasites? You, Cailan, your father, were all too trusting of them. I saw the way Cailan talked with that...Empress Celene of alliances and niceties. How he was so willing to throw everything away, even Anora. Nothing good can come of their help."

Aedan had heard rumors about Cailan possibly leaving Anora for Empress Celee. Anora had produced no heir, and an alliance between the two neighbors could be quite powerful. Perhaps that was why he had left the king to die?

Aedan scoffed at the irate man before him. "So the mighty Loghain will do everything for his country except give up your own 've held onto your hate for so long that it's blinded you." Now it was Aedan's turn to shake his head at Loghain. The man glared up with sharp eyes."I wish Maric could see you now."

"Do not talk like you know him!" Loghain smashed his fist down against the table, which toppled over and crashed against the ground. "He was my friend, and he would stand by me even now, just as I stood by him!" roared the general, his face contorted in rage. Realizing that he had toppled the table, Loghain collected himself and stood up straight. He stared back down at Aedan and scowled, "And do not act like you are better than me. I saw Howe's body. A good man would have given his enemy a quick death."

The two stared at each, their angry breaths slowly seething through their clenched teeth. Loghain opened his mouth and pointed his finger at Aedan, but paused before he spoke. He looked down at the beaten, tired young man, and at his own weary reflection in the glass windows nearby. He grimaced and let his hands lower to his side. Loghain spoke quietly, "If you do not know where my daughter is, then I shall have to make use of you otherwise. Your execution has already been announced." With that, the teyrn left and slammed the door shut behind him.

The previous words lingered on Aedan's mind. Aedan chuckled quietly. You crusade to stop the Blight, and you get an execution order. Even if you stop it, you die killing the Archdemon, he thought. Your family labors for peace and prosperity, and they end up dead, with their bodies eaten by maggots and their reputation torn apart by the wolves of politics. What a world.

His head throbbed. Too much of his blood dripped from metal bats and spikes, and not enough flowed in his veins. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. The cold of the dungeon seeped deep into his bones, but not for much longer. He had watched the guard rotations, and seen where they had put his belongings. Now that Loghain had visited him and had no reason to come back, security would be a bit more lax.

Aedan snapped down on the base of his left thumb. His bone cracked beneath his iron grip. Aedan gritted his teeth through the agonizing pain. Once the worst of the pain had subsided, he slipped his left hand out of his handcuffs.

* * *

><p>Morrigan anxiously leaned her head against the wall and sighed. She knew what was happening in there. No doubt Aedan was being tortured. Yet, they couldn't just rush in and jailbreak him. They needed to have calm heads, but her mind raced with thoughts of what they might be doing to him.<p>

She banged her forehead against the wall again. This is what he made her feel like: irrational, light-headed, worried. She had known this feeling would happen again, because he was him. Stupid, stupid Aedan. If he was not being tortured, Morrigan would have been pleased strangling him once he returned.

She gathered with the rest in the living room- Eamon had called them all over for a status report. Eamon had surprised her. She would have expected Eamon to be a frail old noble too pompous to stomach the presence of such dangerous individuals in his home, but the actual man was anything but. Despite having been out of his coma for a short time, the man's physique was returning. Certainly not at the level of Aedan or Alistair, but Eamon had seen war far before either of those two. His body remembered war.

Eamon stood straight and composed, with his hands behind his back. "It is the third day. Loghain has not sent any word to me as of yet. I would have hoped Aedan would have escaped by now. Zevran has scouted out the area for us, in case we need to get in. Any thoughts?"

Zevran cleared his throat and began his analysis."The Crows have been given requests for this prison before. We've always turned them down because of the high risk compared to the reward." Zevran twirled his dagger anxiously between his fingers. Usually he'd smile when he talked about a big heist. The elf only frowned today. "The prison security is tight. Nobody gets in or out unless it's through the front gates. Even then they do multiple identity checks and item confiscation."

"We need to get him out of there, Eamon," said Alistair. "Aedan would do the same for any of us."

Despite the negative news, Eamon simply nodded at the information and furrowed his brow in thought."It's not a matter of should, it's a matter of how. We're a little lacking on the how right now." Eamon stared into the distance in silence. It reminded Morrigan of Aedan, who'd sit and calculate all the possible scenarios in her head. No doubt Eamon was thinking of the best way to navigate the political landscape.

A panting servant burst through the doors of the living room and held out a scroll to Eamon. "My lord, you may wish to see this."

Eamon snatched the scroll from her hands and scanned the contents. "Maker no," he whispered. He flipped it over to show to the others and read aloud the contents: "By the decree of Teyrn Loghain, the criminal known as Aedan Cousland, leader of the Ferelden Grey Wardens, is sentenced to public execution tomorrow in the Landsmeet chamber, for crimes against the crown and the regency."

The eyes of the rest of the companions turned to Morrigan, who still stared blankly at the flyer. After a minute, the edge of her mouth twitched. A small flame alit at the edge of the paper. Eamon hastily threw the smoking flyer into the fireplace. "If you'll excuse me, Arl Eamon," stated Morrigan as she turned to leave, "I have a jail to burn to the ground."

"Just hold on Morrigan, just hold on," laughed Alistair nervously, "You'll kill Aedan too if you do that."

"Good. The fool had me knocked out- and I have not forgotten the role you played in that either, elf," snarled Morrigan. She flashed a nasty glare at Zevran. A cold shiver ran down Zevran's spine. The last time that had happened he had been unarmed against a large battalion of Tal-Vashoth. Zevran inched towards the opposite door.

"I will not hold on for another moment. Aedan is inside there being tortured, and we just sit here doing nothing. Now, because we have waited, his life is in even more danger!"

"I'm just suggesting that instead of rushing in and burning down buildings and such," stated Alistair, trying to pry Morrigan's staff from her clenched fingers to no avail, "we have an actual plan to get him. I doubt Aedan would be pleased to see that we burnt down half the Palace District to get him out. Leliana and I have come up with something that could work, but we'll need you."

Her fingers still tightly wrapped around her staff, Morrigan paused and considered Alistair's offer, glaring at him all the while. Alistair wasn't sure how Aedan dealt with her on a daily basis. The templar tried his best to smile and calmly stated, "Let's just take a deep breath-"

Morrigan sharply inhaled, and pushed out what little breath she had with a scowl.

"Or not," remarked Alistair dryly.

"Come on, let's go." The witch stormed out of the living room, with Alistair and Leliana in hot pursuit.

* * *

><p><em>Aedan gave one final heave as he pushed the boulder in place. Panting and drenched in sweat, Aedan collapsed against the boulder face and breathed in relief. The summer sun beat down on his back and he could use a cool glass of water. For once Highever didn't require layers.<em>

_"You're sure you'll remember this is where you buried the lambskin package?" asked his father, who sat on a nearby bench. Bemused by the sight of his son working hard while he himself basked in the shade of a tree, Bryce chuckled._

_"It's a giant boulder next to a tree. We don't have many of those just lying around," panted Aedan._

_Bryce raised an eyebrow. "We live next to a mountain. It's made out of giant boulders and covered in trees."_

_Aedan grumbled, took his knife, and carved a smiling face in the boulder face. "There." He made a similar smile as he turned back to face his father, who unlike Aedan and the boulder, frowned._

_"Find something else to mark it," said Bryce, shaking his head._

_"Maybe I'll find another boulder and draw a frowny face on it," grumbled Aedan under his breath, "then it'll match your face."_

_"I'm sorry," remarked Bryce, "whose fault is it that we have to hide these documents here?"_

_"Not my fault! Just helping someone out!"_

_Bryce sighed at his son's reaction. The young man rarely thought about the consequences of his actions. Aedan always thought that just helping out was enough- that good intentions would only result in good things. "You do realize you've caused a lot of trouble for the wrong people. I need you to lay low for awhile."_

_Aedan attempted to heave the boulder up, but instead slipped. His face planted into the dirt beneath him. Looking up from the dry earth, Aedan asked,"Lay low as in..."_

_"Stay inside in the castle whenever you can. At least for a good year. No trips to Denerim. Understood?"_

_"But I'll be so bored…"groused Aedan. He tried to move the boulder once again, but it had gotten caught in the dirt. He groaned and banged his head against the rock face._

_"I'm sure you'll find some other trouble to get into...like burning down a building or something."_

_"Is that what you think of me, father? I'm hurt."_

_Bryce scoffed and nodded towards the forest."I've seen you practicing throwing those little flasks of yours, and the little glass fragments you leave behind."_

_"Just a trick I picked up from a…" The young man paused. Aedan wouldn't go so far as to call Adair a friend. A mentor? Perhaps. "Someone," finished Aedan._

_"I really don't like the people you meet." Bryce stared at his son and crossed his arms. "I'm serious, Aedan. No trouble."_

_"Fine fine." Just as Aedan managed to get the boulder out a rut, he whipped around and shot at his father, "Wait a second- if you knew that you didn't want a boulder to mark this,why didn't you tell before I lugged this thing over here?"_

_Bryce shrugged his shoulders as a wicked smile crossed his face. "Because it was funny."_

_As the two men below continued to bicker, a lone, unnoticed figure watched from the trees._

_"That idiot. Rock with a smiley face." Adair moved to rub his right eye in irritation, but a sword had recently gouged that out. Instead his hand found itself brushing against a leather eyepatch stained with blood._

_"I guess let the kid be a kid," he sighed. Adair watched as Aedan struggled to push the boulder back into the forest with his father chuckling behind him. The cloaked man jumped from tree to tree, leaving behind the idyllic castle. Adair still had much work to do, more blood to spill. Though he had killed many of them, there were still men who knew of the package and would exploit it for their own means. He would be busy for awhile._

_"Till next time, Aedan," he muttered. Adair sincerely hoped that he would never have to see Aedan again. That was the world he had fought for with Teharel and the others. One where people like Aedan never needed to know the lengths men like Adair went to protect them. One where people like Aedan could sit at home with their families and enjoy their lives._

_He hoped Aedan never had to pick up a sword again._

* * *

><p>Morrigan tugged on the Chantry robes in disgust. She wasn't sure if she despised the constrictive guard armor or the chantry robes more. Leliana however had a serene smile on her face as she donned her old garb.<p>

"What are you smiling about? We're breaking someone out of prison."

"Who would expect a smiling Chantry sister to break a man's arm and tie them up while we go look for our friend?" said Leliana. "Remember to use the rope in the robes for that." Morrigan blinked. Sometimes she forgot that the sister had been a bard, and that her serene smile was often times a lie.

Apparently, Morrigan did not know a lot of things. What was it she had told Leliana? 'Look at the assassin pretending to be a sister- what a hypocrite.' She would not say something like to Aedan, because she...what were the words for it, she thought. Morrigan pondered for a bit, before coming up with the phrase: empathized with him. She knew how he would feel when she said those things. She did not care for the bard, but she could understand how the bard felt when she had said those things. Morrigan would not wish such a feeling upon either her or Aedan.

The words stuck in Morrigan's throat. The witch tried to clear her throat."I...have something to say to you...regarding your past," muttered Morrigan from the side of mouth.

"Ah." Leliana frowned in expectation of criticism.

Do not make this harder for me, thought Morrigan to herself. "I have...said things that have been less than amiable regarding it."

"You mean you've been a bitch," muttered Alistair out of earshot. Morrigan ignored the templar

"Sometimes there are things we would not like to talk about, and I can understand that- and I would like to apo….apo...apoli…" Morrigan cleared her throat and tried to say the words again, but all that came out was a low grumble that resembled a dying animal.

"You don't need to say it. I appreciate the gesture," said Leliana.

The templar rubbed the back of his head and glanced over at Morrigan. Alistair remembered what they had learned about Aedan in Howe's dungeon. Leliana had been the one to explain to him Aedan's heritage. Alistair grimaced as he thought about. Duncan had told him something had happened, and sometimes Alistair theorized someone close to Aedan had died. The templar asked, "Is this about-"

"No," snapped Morrigan. She had not talked about it since they had come back. The group looked away from each other in silence. No one had.

"You know I used to think you'd be a bad influence on him, but it turns out he's been a good influence on you," said Leliana, who was not trying very hard to hide her smug grin. At this comment, the templar could not help but snicker as well.

Morrigan scowled."Enough, lest I return to my original plan of burning down the building."

His smile faded lest Morrigan's threat become reality. Alistair decided to jog over to the end of the alleyway to scout out the fort. He waved the other two over while he kept a look out for more guards."The fort is just down this street- Morrigan and Leliana, you get out in front, while-" The templar paused and sniffed the air."Is that...smoke?"

A faint haze wafted upwards in the distance, followed by a thundering explosion shaking through the air. "Fire in the prison yard!" shouted one guard as countless more scrambled towards the prison. "Get the buckets over!"

Amidst the shouting and smoke, Alistair turned to face Morrigan with wide eyes. The witch raised her hands in defense. "Wasn't me, honestly."

"Well, it looks like you two think alike," sighed Alistair, "now we just need to figure out where he ran off to." Morrigan covered her mouth with her hand and hid a small smile at the sight of the flame her lover had created.

Leliana climbed up to a top of a building and scouted out into the distance. "It seems to just be in the courtyard...not the main building. Likely he used it as a distraction so he could escape- well, not quietly." The bard jumped back down and gagged on the smoke that billowed out from the fort.

The three walked calmly amidst the ensuing chaos that had now erupted. Countless waltzes through battlefields made the scene almost more familiar than peacetime. The smoke thickened as the fire grew.

"They need not worry- the fire is far from any flammable material, and there's a nearby water source as well," muttered Leliana under her breath. "But it seems he used material far more prone to smoke than most, perhaps so they'd panic more."

Hooves stampeded against the ground from behind the group. A horse whinnied as it's rider abruptly stopped in front of the prison. "Maker's breath," groaned the guardsmen. He climbed off his horse and sighed,"Burning buildings, bodies strewn about, general chaos...that's Aedan for you."

Noticing Morrigan and Leliana behind him, and despite seeing their Chantry robes, he spoke rather gruffly, "I'm sorry, sisters, but this area needs to be sectioned off. I need to find my friend before he causes anymore trouble...or taxpayer dollars."

"Did you say you were a friend of Aedan's?" asked Leliana.

The guardsmen narrowed his eyes."You know him?" Kylon eyed Alistair, who was trying to look as small as he could behind the two women. "Ah. So you're the bastard. I recognize you from the wanted posters."

"That's Warden Bastard to you," joked Alistair. The guardsmen's unchanged frown made Alistair shrink a little.

"My name is Sergeant Kylon," explained the guardsmen with the same dour expression, "I heard news that Aedan was being held here before his execution, and I was coming to see if I could get it appealed, or at least get him released into city guard custody." Kylon rubbed his eyes in irritation. "Instead I find this mess. He does realize how many times I've had to clean up after his messes already, right?"

Just as he finished speaking, a half naked guardsmen stumbled out the nearby alleyway, holding his dazed head in his hands. Kylon marched over to the man and clasped him on the shoulders to shake him awake.

"You, guardsmen, report! What happened to you!" he barked. The dazed guardsmen stood at attention and saluted Kylon.

"The prisoner...he broke his own hand to get out of his restraints." The guardsmen took a deep breath and tried to find solid footing. "He's...not human. Took down a whole squadron with his bare hands, even after three days of torture. Torched the courtyard, took my clothes, and took off on a horse."

As Kylon continued to interrogate the guard, a familiar feeling washed over Morrigan. The ring, she thought. She could barely feel the ebb of it's energy. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the weak signal.

"Do you think he headed back to Eamon's estate?" asked Alistair. The templar peered around the pavement on the ground, hoping to find some evidence of horse tracks.

"No, guards are going to be swarming everywhere looking for him. He'd find someplace to lay low, somewhere outside the city," mused Leliana.

There, thought Morrigan, having finally gotten a fix on Aedan's signal."He has a ring in his possession that allows me to track him," she announced, "He seems to be heading north."

The sergeant scowled at the half-naked subordinate and shooed him off. "North?" asked Kylon. "Oh Maker."

"Do you know where he's going?" said Morrigan, her eyes tinged with desperation. The signal was already weakening. Kylon grimaced and looked off towards the far off mountains of the north.

"Home."

* * *

><p>And another chapter! Hope you all have been playing Inquisition and enjoying it as much as I have. Expect the next chapter very soon, and I mean it this time. I've been wanting to write this one for a long time. As always, feel free to review, ask questions, or leave constructive criticism. See you all next time.<p>

Warden Commander Oxford: Well, I've finished Inquistion and have some free time for the holidays, so hopefully I can get the next chapter out very soon. When I began this piece, I always had several defining moments in mind, and the next chapter is one of the most important, so I'm excited to be finally writing it.

Blorg13: We'll see what happens to Loghain...Aedan is certainly very angry at Loghain, but understands why Loghain why may have done the things he did. Expect more Loghain/Aedan confrontations before this is all over.

Bloodwolf432: For me, Inquistion was the first time I ended up playing a mage, seeing as I played a warrior in DAO and a rogue in DA2 (Knight Enchanter ftw)

Kadan-sa: Maybe, maybe not. Depends on whether or not Aedan decides to take that ritual- he's pretty deadset on his current path.

Guest: Glad you like my portrayal!

Guest: Here's to more updates in the coming days.

Guest: I'm hoping to pick up the pace on this, so hopefully you won't have to wait too long for the end of this.


	56. Invincible

**Part 7: Strength**

_Chapter 56: Invincible_

Aedan didn't shiver when the cold wind hit him. His body remembered this familiar wind as though it were a blanket. He had grown up with it blowing at his back. It did however send a surge of pain through his left thumb. Aedan cradled his left hand. He had broken his thumb to get out of his restraints, and the rest of his body wasn't faring too well either. His torso throbbed and blood still trickled out of his sticky bandages. Some of it had gotten into his socks and got between his toes, and now walking just felt awkward.

As Aedan walked through the marketplace of Highever, he noticed far less merchants roamed the once busy streets. Many of the storefronts had been boarded up. Well-paved streets now lay in disrepair. What used to be a bustling town square now held countless refugees, begging on the streets. No doubt those fleeing the Blight thought it best to go as far north as possible. He was surprised they didn't go to Kirkwall, but then again, perhaps the city was full already.

With a little searching, Aedan spotted a bakery that hadn't closed up yet. Strangely enough, armed men stood at guard outside. Once Aedan neared, they placed their hands on their weapons and blocked his way. "You got coin?" they grunted.

To be fair, Aedan didn't blame them. The ragged cloak he wore covered his head and body, and he looked very much like a refugee. Aedan flashed a sack full of coin he had liberated off of some bandits. He didn't remember so many criminals stalking the edge of town. The mercenaries pointed at Aedan's sword. "Leave the weapons out here. We don't want you getting any ideas." The warden obliged and handed off his weapons to the guards. He wasn't too worried about it being a scam. If it was, they'd pay dearly.

Inside, cakes and breakfast pastries sat neatly next to one another on the shelves. Steam puffed out of a fresh pot of tea by the counter. "Come in, come in," smiled a well-dressed woman. Aedan eyed the sword by the woman's side.

"Last time I was in town, I don't recall the bread merchants carrying weapons," he remarked.

"Gotta be careful of these refugees, am I right?" sighed the woman, "I give them whatever I don't use, but even then some of them still try to steal. Woman's gotta make a living."

"I'm surprised you make enough to pay for guards in these times."

"I pay them in food and shelter. That's worth it's weight in gold these days."

Aedan scanned the pastries on the shelves, then asked,"You wouldn't happen to have any soup, would you? Little bits of meat, easy to swallow?"

"Got a toothache or something?"

"No, I just like to eat as quickly as possible...get it over with."

The woman heaved a heavy bowl filled with flour into the kitchen. "And to think," she shouted from inside, "I used to cater to the highest nobles. Now people just want to eat as quickly as possible, without savouring the fine tastes my pastries have to offer. I'm sorry, I do not carry soup."

Aedan perused shelves for something else: he spotted a buttery croissant filled with meat and cheese. He stomach growled. He missed the taste of buttery croissants- not that he would be able to taste it now.

After paying the lady and retrieving his weapons, Aedan rested beneath a nearby tree. He took a bite of the crusty treat and almost gagged. It tasted like wet paper, just like everything else he ate nowadays. Aedan struggled to finish the rest of it, swallowing the disgusting wet texture in his mouth as soon he could. It filled his stomach, and that was what he needed. Aedan mentally apologized to the baker for not enjoying her meal. Now he needed to wash out the sour aftertaste. Knowing he would not have to look far, Aedan looked about until he spotted what he was looking for not too far away. If there was one thing Aedan knew would not close down, it was the bars.

* * *

><p>"Water, please." Aedan slid the bartender a silver. Glass in hand, Aedan gulped down the refreshing liquid and gasped for air. The wet paper taste still lingered in his mouth. <em>Booze will kill it<em>, he thought, but Aedan knew he needed to hydrate. "Another water please." After the bartender had handed him another glass, Aedan asked,"What happened here? The city used used to be...better."

The bartender looked downwards and laughed a little whilst he cleaned out the glasses, then he gave a tired little sigh. "I suppose you were here during the Couslands' reign. Howe raised the taxes. Claimed it was for the war effort. There's only so much you can tax without pumping it back into the city. The Couslands always had a rainy day fund for situations like this, but Howe, that bastard, used it all up on god knows what. Whores and drugs probably."

Setting down the dirty glasses, the bartender poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it in a second. _Drinking on the job_, thought Aedan, _clearly things aren't going well. Not that I have any right to judge. _

"Then he started taxing traders for just going in and out of the city. Nothing kills trade faster than that. Then the refugees from the south started flocking here. Lots of folk left after that, saying that the glory of the Couslands was over. They didn't want to stick around in this dying place."

Aedan turned away and sipped on his water. He wished there was more he could have done for his home city, but he had to take the path he did. If not, far more than Highever would have been lost to the chaos.

"You a soldier?" asked the bartender.

"How can you tell?"

"All those scars and wounds...and that dead look in your eyes. I see some of you pass through every once in awhile. Some are just on patrol, others are abandoning their post. They've all seen shit with this Blight. You?"

"Some unfinished business. Then back to the job."

"You know why all of Howe's guards left in such a rush? Figure you might know, being a soldier and all."

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard what? We barely get any news up in the north here, now that traders rarely stop by anymore."

"Howe's dead."

A wild grin slowly grew on the bartender's beleaguered face. The man gave a deep hearty laugh and clapped his hands together."You're shitting me. Thought that bastard had too much diplomatic immunity. Who finally killed the bugger?"

Aedan chuckled a little as he mentioned his own moniker: "The Warden."

"I knew the stories about the Warden was true! Knew he wouldn't let us down!" The bartender slammed down several glasses of ale on the table. The golden drink spilled over the stained countertop."Boys!" he shouted to the other weary occupants of the bar, "Good news! The Warden killed Howe! Drinks are on me!"

A thundering roar shook the bar as the men and woman raised their arms to cheer. Whether it was because Howe was dead or the free booze, Aedan couldn't tell. Whilst the vultures descended upon the fre ale, he bartender turned to Aedan and grinned."I think for the harbinger of this good news, and one of our fine soldiers, I think a drink is in order?"

Aedan hesitated. Dehydration and lack of food meant he shouldn't drink. Nevertheless, he was never one to pass up on free alcohol. "Vodka. Neat. Gimme the strongest you got."

"Any particular brand?"

"The cheapest."

The bartender set down a small glass of the clear vodka. Aedan could smell how strong it was. When he was younger, he would have gagged at the scent. Now Aedan simply tipped back the glass and let the poisonous liquid slide down his throat as though it were water. Aedan quietly placed the glass back on the counter and slid it back to the bartender. The bartender shook his head and grimaced."Maker, that stuff tastes like shit. How do you just down it?"

"Experience," sighed Aedan, wiping the last burning droplets away with his tattered sleeve. "So what have you heard about this Warden?"

"He stopped the Circle tower from letting loose an army of abominations," shouted one man in the back, "He can kill demons as well as darkspawn! Reckon he's a templar or something?"

One slobbering man giggled, "Heard he had a fourway with the Empress Celene and Queen Anora...and a nug."

"The Warden got the dwarves on our side. Killed galloping golems or something. We'll be dancing over the archdemons corpse in no time."

"Heard the man's like an unstoppable force! Killed an entire army of darkspawn by himself!"

"We're really going to be saved. This guy's going to save us...right?"

The conversation paused. The laughter become hesitant and quiet, almost fake. The edges of the patrons' mouths tensed up as they all took another frenzied chug of their drinks. They slammed their glasses onto the table, stared down at the floor for a few seconds, and then raised their heads back up with a desperate smile. "Yeah. He's going to save us," said one man, "Of course he will. He's the Warden."

"To the Warden!" shouted all the patrons again.

The awkward desperation in their drinking depressed Aedan, as well as their continued discussion of his exploits. He needed to get out of here. "Has anyone been up to the castle?" he asked, downing another water.

"Nobody's been up there since the Couslands died. Howe's guards kept the looters out of there, but the Arl made no effort to rebuild it. There are rumors it's haunted anyways. Why-"

When the bartender turned back around, he saw no one, save for the sack of coins left by the empty glass.

* * *

><p>No one guarded the path back up to the castle, just like the bartender had said. Aedan remembered this twisting path back up to the castle. As a young boy, he'd always loved when the wagon swayed back and forth as the horse maneuvered the tricky landscape. Aedan trudged his way back up the road, leaning on the nearby trees to rest when his wounds started acting up. He chided himself- by the time he got back up, it would be evening.<p>

It was better that he had left Denerim for now, but that was just an excuse. Their bodies were rotting in the castle, and he had to take care of them. That was his duty as a son. Blight be damned, he would do this first- or perhaps he was just running from the others. No doubt Morrigan could track him through the ring he had on. They needed to know he was alright after all. Now however, they would see him and they would know who he was. They would know of his greatest failure. He did not want their pity. He did not want their worry.

By the time the pale orange sun had begun to set, Aedan passed the remainders of the main gates. It had been more than year since he had been back. The wooden gate had been broken by Howe's siege, then burnt to a crisp. The stone of the castle walls had crumbled and been blackened by the fires of assault. Aedan used to stare out from the watchtowers up in the sky. Now he stepped over the charred remains of a once proud castle. Cinders crunched beneath his feet.

Already Aedan could see bodies. Howe had left the entrails of his victory on display. They lay in front of the gate that they had tried to barricade. Aedan recognized one body from the silver glint around his neck: Ser Rault. The necklace had been a gift from his wife. Aedan never talked to Ser Rault much, but Ser Rault had been loyal enough to lay down his life for the Couslands. The remains of countless other skeletons lay beside him. Their skin and clothing had been scorched away, along with most of the bones.

One skeleton was draped in burnt mage robes. There lay the woman who had frozen Aedan's sword and made it brittle. His right arm, filled with scars from the shattered sword fragments, ached. Numerous skeletons lay around her. Aedan grimaced. Even if he had killed her and saved those who now lay beside her, they would have simply perished when Howe's men broke through the front door.

Whilst he walked down that long hallway to the kitchen, in his mind the fire still blazed. The clanging of steel of against steel rung in his ears like it was yesterday. The blood pumped through his veins, reminiscent of when he was so afraid to die. Aedan approached the kitchen door. His hands shook. He had stood there as the fire roared and his hands trembled from so much battle. His right hand shivered from the brittle pieces of ice that clung to it and the sword. Aedan opened the door. Nothing lay inside except kitchen utensil and rotten food. A rat scurried across the floor. He had expected to see Nan's skeleton there- why wasn't it there?

He gulped and placed his hand on the kitchen cellar door. His stomach lurched as the noxious sour smell of rotten flesh filled his lungs. He knew only pain lay behind there, but he had to open it. This was his sin. He had left them. Aedan closed his hand around the knob and turned-

_Decrepit skeletons laying side by side, rotten flesh, maggots digging into their eyes, dried blood everywhere, fungus growing out their stomach, they dragged the rest in there and threw the dead on the still living, oh god the maggots squirming and slithering-_

Aedan slammed the door shut and slid down against it. His trembling hands cradled his head as he heaved. "That bastard," he seethed, "that fucking bastard." Howe had dragged more dead bodies in there. Aedan recognized Oren's tiny frame laying atop his mother's. Howe had mocked his parents in their last moments by throwing the bodies of the dead upon them.

_You have to do this. You have to be strong enough to at least do this._

He tried to stand back up but couldn't. Aedan pushed aside the door and forced himself to look. His vision went blank as he collapsed to the ground. What little was left in his stomach spewed out. His teeth and gums burned as he kneeled over his own vomit and just stared at it.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Aedan repeated that over and over again until words could no longer leave his parched throat. He staggered out of the kitchen to look for water, food, anything. All he found were ashes and charred bodies. His mind a blur, Aedan took the contents of his flask and emptied all of it into his mouth. He lurched forward and vomited again.

The broken Aedan stumbled out of the remains of the castle. Clutching at his heaving chest, Aedan struggled to ease himself down against a stone pillar. As he was sitting down, his feet slipped out from under him and the man fell onto his bottom. His feet had gone numb and he could no longer get back up. His ears filled with the burning fires and screaming of his family's voices. He was there, back there on that wretched, helpless and weak. They screamed and pleaded and he couldn't do a thing. He could feel the sword fragments digging into his right arm and his right hand clenched in agony. The cold sweat dripped his entire body and soaked into his clothing. In his trauma, Aedan did not hear the desperate footsteps stamping against the stone path, nor the shouts of others as they spotted him.

A familiar warmth seeped through his left arm, and the aching in his broken left thumb eased. As the pain eased, Aedan broke from his reverie and turned his gaze to the left to see Morrigan squatting next to him. Alistair and the others stood behind her.

"Thank you," murmured Aedan. He flexed his formerly broken left thumb and winced. The process would take awhile.

"We were about to get you. You could have waited a little while longer," whispered Morrigan. She brushed away stray black hair in front of her eyes, the slight hint of bags beneath them.

"He left the bodies to rot. I had to come...give them proper rites." Aedan pried away Morrigan's healing hands and struggled back onto his feet. He willed himself back forward that broken gate. Morrigan gripped her lithe hand about his wrist to try to pull him back down but Aedan wrenched himself from her grip.

"I have to go back in-"

Aedan lurched forward and fell on his knees. He held his stomach as to keep himself from throwing up again. His heart twisted. Cold sweat ran down his body. It dripped down onto his hands, and he felt like he did in his nightmares, as though he waded in a never ending ocean of blood and flesh.

Leliana kneeled beside him and pushed him back down against a nearby stone pillar."Aedan, please stop. Just wait for a bit and-"

"You didn't see them, I can't leave them like that," Aedan seethed, "I have to do this." His hands trembled as the fresh images of the bodies flashed through his mind. _The maggots, the fungus, the blood, oh god._

Alistair struggled to hold down the stubborn Aedan. "Aedan...let us do it."

Weary, starved, and wounded, still Aedan tried to stand back up. "No, I have to be the one to do this." He wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath. "Alone."

"Aedan…"

"I couldn't save them," whispered Aedan, his voice cracking, "I couldn't save any of them. If I can't even bury them, then what good am I? If I can't do at least that...then how can I…" Aedan hung his head in shame. Barely a whisper, the words escaped his mouth: "How can I stop this Blight? How can I kill the Archdemon?"

Alistair looked at his friend, drenched in sweat and trembling, his eyes staring into a far off abyss of pain. Aedan had endured so much, carried so much, and done so much, without so much as asking for any help. Alistair knew what he need to do: tell his friend the one thing he did not want to hear. Alistair said,"This is something you can't do."

"What?" replied Aedan weakly, his face twisted in pain.

"There are some things that we can't do," explained Alistair, "That doesn't mean that we're weaker for it. You can't do this, and that's okay. It's not like strength of will allows you to do everything. Being able to accomplish one thing doesn't mean you can do another. Look at Loghain- he freed Ferelden from Orlais, only to run it into the ground once he had the chance to rule. Seeing your family like this...would be too much. I don't want my friend's last memories of his family to be this. So you can't do this."

Alistair clasped his friend on his shoulders and smiled."And that's okay. You're still...you. The man who brought us this far. I have never doubted that you are the one that will put your blade into that blasted archdemon and kill it."

"When Duncan died...you took over, even though I should have, but I realized now that you were the only one who could have done this- all this. You were the right man for the job. If it were me...I would have gone with the easier choices, and not because I thought it was right, but because it would have been easier on me. You did your job right. This job...this is ours. Not yours."

Aedan covered his face with hands. Through the cracks in his right hand could see Alistair, but in the rest of the darkness he saw only the rotted decrepit bodies screaming at him. The maggots burrowed into their eyes and squirmed about while fungus and blood spilled from their rotted wounds.

_Don't listen to him_, hissed the voices.

_You have to do this alone_, called out his father.

_You who left us_, called out his mother.

_You who failed us_, called out Nan.

_You who could not perform his duty_, called out Oriana.

_You who got to live while others did not_, called out Oren.

_You have to do this, or else how can you defeat the Blight_, they all hissed at once.

_I failed you I have to do this I failed you I have to do this I failed you I have to do this_, he screamed internally. He had to do this. He couldn't save all the victims of the Blight and he couldn't save House Harrowmont, but he had always completed his objective- he had always trudged through every obstacle thrown in his way, despite how much he sacrificed. If Aedan couldn't do something as simple as burying the dead, despite all the sacrifices he lay before it, how could he move forward? He had to be as strong as possible- an infallible juggernaut that crushed all obstacles. He had to live up to everyone's expectations as the Warden.

He had to be the Warden. He should be the Warden. He needed to be the Warden.

Aedan struggled to hold onto what little sanity he had left. He clawed at his hair. His eyes clenched, only darkness lay in his sight. It was far easier to pretend it was his family talking. It was far easier to pretend he could do everything. For if he pretended, one day the lie might become truth- that they were not dead, that he was invincible. Yet deep in his mind, Aedan knew the answers could only lay in the truth, not lies.

_They're dead_, Aedan repeated like a mantra. _They're dead, and they're not talking to you. The nightmares aren't them. You're the one saying these things to yourself. Don't pretend they're the ones saying it. Don't pretend you're trying to do this for anyone besides yourself. You just want to reassure and redeem yourself- because if you can't do that, then you're not invincible. If you're not invincible, then you're not the Warden. If you're not the Warden, then you can't defeat the Archdemon._

He remembered the words of Morrigan as she had climbed into his bedroll that night in Redcliffe. _Do not hobble about like a fool- lean on us_, she had said. _Let go_, said the spirit imitating his father at the temple.

He could not find redemption nor peace by doing this himself, just as he found none when killing Howe. He could keep struggling to put it right, keep struggling to be some idealized version of himself- or he could listen to Alistair, Morrigan, and the rest, and just let it go.

_You can't make this right_, he quietly told himself, _No man is invincible. No man can do everything._

_Just let go._

_Just let go._

_Just let go._

This one word took more power than slaying Flemeth. It took more will than deciding the fate of thousands. It took more fortitude than enduring countless wounds. Aedan gritted his teeth and clenched his trembling fists. With every iota of strength he had left, Aedan forced himself to breath one word.

"Okay."

Alistair smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder.

* * *

><p>Aedan sat as the others constructed the pyre. Sten, Shale, and Oghren gathered logs of wood, enough to hold all the bodies. Alistair and the rest gathered the bodies. They had covered their mouths and noses with cloth doused in herbs to blot out the rotting stench. In their arms they carried the bodies wrapped in whatever they could find: charred blankets, torn banners, and the occasional untouched tablecloth. Aedan couldn't tell which ones were his family, the guards, or perhaps even the guards of Howe's. It didn't matter. They were all dead. They should all have some sort of rites.<p>

Alistair heaved the last of the bodies onto the pyre. He pulled off his cloth mask and waved his friend over. Aedan groaned in slight pain as he pushed himself off the ground. Morrigan's healing would take longer to take full effect. The templar held out a lit torch to the waddling Aedan."I thought you should be the one to light it." Aedan nodded and grasped the torch in hand. He held his breath as he neared the pyre. The stench of so many rotting bodies filled the air all around it. With a single toss he threw the torch into the bodies.

The pyre roared alive. Flames danced in the pitch black night. Aedan couldn't help but remember the heated flames of Daveth and Jory's pyre, the cinders that blew against his face as he burnt the victims of the Blight, and the sharp wind that chilled his body as he lay Teharel to rest.

His mind wandered to his family. Laughing, smiling, eating, all as they used to be. He could no longer make out their faces in his memories, but he still remembered. His eyes felt heavy. Aedan gritted his teeth and willed himself not to cry, willed himself not to remember them. That was weakness. He had already made enough compromises today. He had to stop thinking about them. That was-

Morrigan watched Aedan struggle with himself from afar. The witch walked to his side and brushed the side of her hand against his. In that quiet, heavy voice of hers, Morrigan said aloud,"My mother once told me that tears are for the weak."

Aedan wiped his arm across his face and nodded. He clasped his right arm, aching from the old sword wounds delivered that fateful day."I know- I shouldn't-"

"So I say let them out," stated the witch plainly.

Aedan wasn't sure he heard the words right. He twisted to meet Morrigan's eyes. His clenched fists loosened. The woman stared back as serious as ever, her gaze unwavering.

"You should only hold onto things that make you stronger." Morrigan gently pried apart Aedan's fist with her left hand. Her fingers snaked between his till all were intertwined. Morrigan held his hand tight, as though at any moment he might slip away.

The warden hesitated."It's...okay?" he croaked.

"It's okay," replied Morrigan, gently squeezing his hand.

For the longest time, Aedan did not speak. He and Morrigan simply stared into the fire, like they had always done at camp. Then without realizing it, Aedan let a tear drop down his cheek, as he finally let himself remember.

_His family, sitting around a table, eating together. _

Morrigan felt Aedan's fingers clutch hers tighter.

_Oren asleep in Oriana's lap. Fergus and him struggling for the last chicken piece. _

Another tear dripped down his face, leaving a warm trail soaked in his skin.

_His parents bickering over who would walk Gregory. Nan laughing as the chicken fell off the table amidst the family struggle. _

His chest heaved up and down. One by one the tears trickled forth.

_His family, together. _

For the first time since his family had died, Aedan Cousland wept. He held onto Morrigan's hand tight as his body wavered. Tears streamed endlessly down his face. He hunched over and let soak them into the ground. His hand, still clasped with Morrigan's, trembled and shook. They stood there together for what seemed to Aedan an eternity.

As the first warm rays of the morning sun peeked over the horizon, Aedan wiped aside his tear stained face. He realized something as the last of them trickled down his cheek and into his mouth. He turned his back to the pyre, hand in hand with Morrigan, smiling sadly as he did.

They tasted salty.

* * *

><p><em>Author notes:<em>

BOOM NEW CHAPTER HAPPY HOLIDAYS

So yeah. Momentous chapter. As for why this came so much earlier, I've literally been thinking about this chapter for years, so writing it came easily. It was one of the big moments I'd always planned since the beginning for this piece (wasn't sure I'd ever get here, but here we are!), where Aedan finally weeps for his family, and more importantly, learns to let go of things. He finally starts to let go of his grief. He finally starts to let go of his obsession of being infallible. In a way, he finally starting to accepts that he can't be the perfect leader, the Warden, that the general populace thinks he is, and more importantly, that it's okay if he isn't. In return, he finally regains a part of himself, his sense of taste.

As always, feel free to review, ask questions, or leave constructive criticism. See you all next time.

Lolord: Guess what! More Morrigan next chapter! Lots more!

Jarjaxle: So yeah, there were corpses, and they were not in great condition...pretty bad for Aedan. He definitely went to a dark place in his mind this chapter, but he bounced back, and we'll continue to see him grow.

Guest: Unfortunately, no Fergus yet. He'll reappear for sure. As for Aedan agreeing to the Dark Ritual, you're definitely right in noting he's going to need a reason to take it, considering his current plans.


	57. Tea

**Part 7: Strength**

_Chapter 57: Tea_

"Tell me, what exactly are we digging out?" Alistair heaved another shovel full of dirt over his back. The wind carried bits of soil right into Aedan's vision. The former noble attempted to wipe his eyes, still slightly red and puffy from an hour ago. By now the morning sun had fully risen.

"It's a lambskin package," said Aedan. "it's very important we retrieve it. Royal stuff."

Alistair jerked his hands up into the air and shook his head frantically. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want anything to do with all that courtly intrigue. You can take care of that."

"You don't want to be king?" asked Aedan.

"No," half-laughed Alistair, "No no no. I'd run this country into the ground." The templar timidly scratched the top of his head and continued to laugh.

"I think you'd be great at it."

"See you, you're a leader. Not me. I just follow."

"Different leaders in different times. I'm the best suited to fight a Blight. You're the one best suited to rebuild this country."

"That's funny. More so than the woman who managed the kingdom for five years?"

"I'll admit, it might be a rough start, but although Anora understands courtly intrigue, she doesn't get the common folk as much she would like to. You understand. You've trudged through hardship. And despite all you've been through, you still believe in people...and you bring out the best in people. Using this." Aedan poked Alistair straight in the heart, then returned to his shoveling. The templar considered Aedan's word and drummed his fingers against his shovel handle.

Aedan thought of the Archdemon. His grip tightened and the shovel quaked for a second. Alistair's words were after all just words. All today had proven was that Aedan could not bury his family, not that he could kill the Archdemon. He frowned whilst he thought of his inability to bury his family. His heart clenched. _It's okay,_ repeated Aedan to himself. Still his heart clenched. He wasn't used to letting go. Doing so one time would not change him. Aedan knew he would have to repeat those words to himself for a long time to come before he truly believed them. Knowing the fate in store for him when he killed the Archdemon, perhaps he would not have that time.

_Still_, thought Aedan. He closed his eyes and leaned against his shovel and pulled out some jerky. That savoury, meaty taste rolled about in his mouth while Aedan chewed. It was duller than he remembered, but he still sighed through his nose and smiled. At least he had this back.

"Thank you. I mean it," said Aedan after he had finished chewing.

"I'm going to blush, are you going to get down on one knee and propose?" replied Alistair.

"I think Morrigan would be quite angry," laughed Aedan back.

The witch in question leaned against a nearby tree. Morrigan gagged at the two's conversation. "I do ask that you two hurry up. Tis unlikely your guardsmen friend can hide the queen for much longer."

Alistair drove his shovel into the soil once again. The shovel reverberated in his hands. The templar sifted the soil aside to reveal what he had found and exclaimed,"Is this it?" The templar picked up the rock and turned it over in his hand. A carved smile beamed back at him.

"This is what we needed to dig up?" scowled Morrigan at Aedan."Your pet rock? We already have one of those."

"No, there's supposed to be lambskin package in here." Aedan looked back at the dirt and found a crumpled note beneath where the rock had been. He and Alistair scanned over the contents.

* * *

><p><em>Aedan,<em>

_Couldn't risk Howe digging this up. Keeping it safe until you need it. I'll find you._

_-Adair_

* * *

><p>Aedan scoffed and crushed the note in his fist."Son of a bitch. "<p>

"Family?"

"Oh no, he tried to kill me once. I captured him and locked him up in a dungeon. We teamed up. He tortured me. Then he went on a suicide mission. Apparently he survived." Aedan rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't sure whether to smile or scowl.

"He sounds fun," remarked Alistair, " I assume he'll find you."

"I hope so."

The others had already gathered by the ruined gates togeter with horses and tented wagons. Shale sat alone in one wagon pulled by two horses. Morrigan hopped into the back of one hooded wagon, while curiously enough the others all boarded their own horses or another wagon.

"There's more space in this wagon for more people you know. It's more expensive to take more horses," chided Aedan, "Budget's running tight."

The red-haired bard rolled her eyes, jumped off her horse, and shoved Aedan into the wagon. "Typical man. Dense as a rock," she giggled. Once back on her horse, Leliana whipped the reins and headed off. Though Zevran manned the horse at front, the elf pulled out the curtain separating driver from passenger. The wagon jumped beneath him as they headed down the rocky path.

Morrigan sat against the wall of the wagon, looking the opposite direction of Aedan. Aedan eased himself into a sitting position down next to her. He looked over at Morrigan, still facing away. He yawned and his eyes drooped. Just as they closed, he felt a tug on his knee from Morrigan.

"Hmm?" mumbled Aedan whilst he rubbed his eyes. Though he had not slept at all last night, nor much the previous days, it would do no good to go to sleep in the morning and mess up his already terrible sleep schedule.

Morrigan again tugged again on his knee and frowned at him. Aedan looked at her, then at his own legs."Oh," he said. Aedan spread his legs apart. Morrigan plopped down between them. The witch shifted against his chest as she settled in. "So, does the offer stand to hear some stories from your past, now that you are no longer oh so mysterious?" she asked quietly.

"Now that I'm no longer so mysterious, does that mean I'm not as attractive anymore?"

"Yes, all my attraction towards you has dried up like a toad on a hot day. Tis dreadfully unpleasant for me to sit here." The witch twirled a stray bang of hair as she looked away to the side. "T'would be even more unpleasant if you were to hold me."

Aedan smiled, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his head on the top of hers. The witch struggled not to smile as well- the side of her mouth only twitched a bit. "Ah. Tis most unpleasant."

"I live to see you suffer," said Aedan, kissing the top of Morrigan's head.

"If you were to also give me a foot massage, I would find that unbelievably unpleasant."

"Don't push it."

Morrigan looked back up at him with pouting eyes and slightly puffed out cheeks. Aedan rolled his eyes. "Maybe later."

Morrigan tapped on his arm."Come. Tell me one of your stories. It will keep you awake and your sleep cycle intact."

His mind wandered through his memories, though he struggled to. His eyes kept closing and Aedan kept shaking himself awake. "This one's a good one," yawned Aedan, "it's got assassins, grumpy drunk elves, stuck up Orlesians, and royal intrigue. So I was at my first tournament, and I was doing pretty badly..."

Aedan trailed off and sunk his face into the back of Morrigan's head. The quietest snore escaped his lips. Despite her previous words regarding sleep, Morrigan tugged Aedan's arms about her tighter, sunk backwards into his warm chest, and closed her eyes as well.

* * *

><p>Eamon blew three times on his tea. Bits of steam puffed out as the top of the black liquid cooled. Present company, however, made enjoying his favorite pastime somewhat difficult.<p>

Loghain, fully armored, bit his tongue to resist the temptation to knock the tea out of Eamon's hands. "I will ask you this again," snarled Loghain, "where is my daughter?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Eamon said, hiding his slight grin with his cup. Rarely had he seen Loghain so flustered.

"Aedan Cousland was with you at your house the day before my daughter was kidnapped from Arl Howe's estate-"

"And what, pray tell, was she doing there?" interrupted Eamon, "I certainly hadn't heard from our queen in quite some time."

Without blinking Loghain replied,"She was there temporarily. On my leave."

"You left Anora in Arl Howe's house? Seems like a huge lapse in judgement right there, considering we both know about his...tendencies."

Loghain sneered at Eamon. He crossed his arms and his armor rustled as he did."I did not think you someone so low as to speak ill of the dead."

Eamon chuckled whilst he handed off his tea to be refilled."To be fair, I would say the same things about him even if he were alive. Let us both pretend for postures sake that you were the one to put her there."

"Then, Aedan kidnaps her with his associates, then they disappear to Maker knows where-"

"Didn't you arrest him? Seems like everything should be fine now."

"Then he breaks out by setting fire to the damn prison, and now we can no longer find him. Where, pray tell, would he be?"

Eamon glanced at Loghain's side. No sword. He looked back at the two guards stationed by the door. If Loghain had planned on arresting Eamon, he would have brought more. Eamon chose not to glance out the windows. Doing so would alert Loghain's guards to the archers who currently pointed their arrows at Loghain.

"Why not check the old Cousland estate? Perhaps he might be there?"

"We checked that first. No one was there. Besides, I've got someone who actually cares about this damn city monitoring the premises. Sergeant Kylon. Captain of the city guard."

Loghain stood in front of Eamon as the man continued to sip on his tea. Eamon peered up at Loghain and raised an eyebrow. "Something bothering you, old friend?"

"Are you even taking this seriously, Eamon? Or are just going to sit here sipping tea?"

Eamon set down his tea and stood back up. He met Loghain's gaze with his own and furrowed his brow. "I, out of the two of us, am the one taking this seriously."

Loghain laughed,"You honestly think Aedan Cousland can lead this army better than me? I led our armies to victory against Orlais."

"We fought men," said Eamon, "Treacherous, conniving men, but men nonetheless. Aedan has fought far worse things than us with far less at his disposal. He has an army, ready to lay down their lives and fight for him."

"That's not the point. A year ago, he lazed about in the Cousland estate, a second-born living off the coat-tails of his parents. You really think a man like that is worth a damn leading a battle-"

"I do," said Eamon, raising his voice. He glared at Loghain with cold eyes. "My village still lives because of how he protected them from your machinations. Stop trying to deface Aedan to satisfy your own self doubt. Stop lying to yourself, Loghain. You know what you did at Ostagar was unforgivable! What you did to Maric's son...no-"

Eamon invoked a name both men loved dearly: "Rowan's son."

Loghain breathing hastened as the anger surged through his veins."How dare you! I protected my country!" shouted Loghain. He pointed his finger at Eamon and jabbed it into his chest. "Just like we did all these years ago! Maric, Rowan, and I!" Loghain stepped in closer and seethed, "Or did you forget that after you married the enemy's daughter, you traitor?"

Eamon slapped away Loghain's hand, and clenched his fist tight. It hovered in the air for only a second before Eamon released his fist, instead choosing to point at the door. "Get out. Now."

"Fine! I'll find Aedan, one way or another!" Loghain swatted Eamon's tea set into the floor. The fine china shattered against the oak wood. The dark tea seeped through the cracks and soaked into the carpet. Even some of Loghain's guardsmen grimaced and shared furtive glances. "I've got the captain of the city guard scouring the streets for him! One way or another, I'll find my daughter and bring this country together!"

Loghain threw open the door and stormed out, with his guards in quick pursuit. Left alone in his greeting room, Eamon picked up the remains of his tea set. He turned over a broken piece between his fingers and sighed. Loghain had not even recognized his own gift.

* * *

><p>Captain Kylon unlocked the back door to the old Cousland estate and gave a long, tired groan that seemed to last whole minute."Please, come in, all of you. You're only just risking my livelihood and reputation."<p>

"Still as grumpy as ever, Kylon," remarked Aedan as the rest of his companions entered the building.

"Still giving me a headache as usual, Aedan."

"I'm hurt."

"Good," said Kylon, "Half my day has been spent diverting guardsmen away from you and your companions. That's incredibly difficult when you travel with a gigantic fucking war golem."

Shale shifted in place and placed her craggy hands on her waist. "I do not look..wide do I?"

"No no no Shale, he's simply remarking on the size of your fists," cooed Wynne, who patted Shale on her arms.

"Good. People should fear them." Shale smashed her fists together lightly. A small tremor shook the house. Kylon whipped his glare at Shale. The golem grumbled and shuffled into the house.

"Anyways," announced Aedan to rest his companions, "welcome to the Couslands' Denerim estate...or what's left of it anyways. Kylon will tell Loghain we're not here, but try not to go outside for now."

Indeed, little furniture remained that Aedan remembered. All the paintings had been taken down, revealing a rather drab shade of white. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the house. Aedan prayed that none of them sneezed, lest the dust become airborne and consume the building.

"Rather sparse for a noble's estate," remarked Alistair. "Did Howe sell the belongings?"

"Actually there was a break-in around the time you rolled into town, Aedan- and then it turns out the goods were sold on the black market by what was described to me by the fence as 'a terrifying drunk juggernaut and a sexy pirate with no pants'." Kylon faked a laugh. "I wish I was making this up."

The former noble shrugged."All's well that ends well."

"I had to listen to that snake Howe yell over and over again about the abysmal state of our city's security- and then my paycheck got lowered. Thanks," grouched Kylon.

"Sorry," Aedan nervously rubbed his ear and patted Kylon on the back. "I'll pay you back later."

"Just save us all from rampaging darkspawn, and we'll call it even."

"Will do."

A resounding knock shook the door, followed by two quieter ones. "And it looks like our guest of honor has arrived," said Aedan. He turned to the others. "There's a lounge further down. You guys can wait there while Eamon and I talk with Anora."

Whilst the others cleared out of the greeting room, Erlina walked in with Eamon and a hooded figure behind her. The elf took one look at the ransacked estate, blinked, then immediately set off to find a dustpan.

"Eamon," greeted Aedan.

"Aedan, good to see you in one piece," chuckled Eamon, "You had me worried for a bit."

Kylon shut the door and deadbolted it. The light quickly dissipated from the room as he went around closing each window. The captain peeked through the cracks in each one, before declaring,"Nobody's watching. You can take off the hood, Queen Anora."

Anora pulled back hood and pulled off her cloak. In a heartbeat Erlina was there to take it off her hands then fold it neatly. Anora dusted off a nearby wooden chair with her hand with three quick swipes, then sat down with perfect posture.

Aedan searched for his seat: he hid his grin when he saw his favorite chair was still there. Aedan controlled himself and carefully sat down in the chair with poise. While no longer a noble, appearances should at least be kept in front of other nobles. He desperately wanted turn over onto his belly and slouch in the chair, but instead stood up straight and greeted Anora with a bow of the head. "Queen Anora."

"Warden Aedan," greeted Anora back.

"So where'd you hide her out, Kylon?" asked Aedan.

"Well, where's the one place you'd last think to look for our tight laced queen?"

"You took her to the Pearl? Oh Maker, she must have loved that."

Anora cleared her throat. At that, Kylon saluted Eamon and waved goodbye to Aedan. Once the door closed behind him, Anora turned to speak to the warden. "Aedan. I'd like to thank you for the restraint you showed in getting me here. I know that you made a personal sacrifice to ensure my safety, and that will not be forgotten."

"Thank you," nodded Aedan.

"So, business?" said Eamon. Just as Eamon said that, Erlina zipped over with a fresh pot of tea and biscuits on a platter, having somehow managed to find some in all the mess. With a dustpan at her side, Erlina immediately set about cleaning the surrounding room whilst the others talked.

"Sugar or milk, Anora?" asked Eamon whilst he dropped a cube in his cup.

"No thank you, Eamon, I take mine without," replied Anora.

Eamon picked up his cup of tea and asked, "So, what do you want from us, Anora?"

"What we all want. A united Ferelden to face the Blight. To that, we need a ruler."

"We have a candidate," said Aedan, "Alistair."

Anora smiled. If it was anyone else besides the queen of Ferelden, Aedan would simply brush it off. The smile was almost perfectly symmetrical, with only a slight upwards tug at the right end as to not make it seem unnatural. Years at court had taught Anora the perfect smile. Controlled. That was the word Aedan would describe Anora as. The way not a single stray hair poked out of her blonde bun. How her blush did not overpower her pale face, but accentuated what color she had. How smoothly she picked up the tea, sipped it, and set it down, without so much as clatter of the tea cup or change in her posture.

"I had heard that you were fond of jokes, Aedan, but when it is the future of our country at stake, I never kid. Alistair is inexperienced, and does not have the poise needed to lead our country. He is an exceptional Warden no doubt. But a Warden does not mean a good politician."

"You're of commoner blood," said Eamon, "I particularly don't care about that, but many of the nobles do. How will countless nobles plotting to overthrow help for the stability of our country?"

"Lineage is simply that. It does not in inherently make someone better for rule. Experience does. The nobles will fall in line when their provinces prosper."

"Experience is something that can be obtained," added Aedan,"Blood is not. So while we give the image of strong king with Alistair's blood, we teach him to rule. In the meanwhile, advisors."

"So you care more about the image of a king than the actual management?" said Anora, "Can I not prove my strength through deeds? More importantly, have I not these past five years. My husband was a great man, but he did not run this kingdom. I did."

"Yet he still gave the image of a strong king," said Aedan,"The people loved him. They mourned him. Loghain used his death to hunt down my order, and people listened. He used his death to secure power in an uncertain time, and people bowed. People will do much for a king they believe in, regardless of whether their beliefs are false."

"Belief is simply that. It does not allocate tax revenues to aid the right refugees in the right regions. It does not negotiate loans from other countries to repair our broken cities. It does not stave off the vultures of Orlais with treaties. Do not forget that I am well loved by the people as well. Not all them are fools that think Cailan ruled alone."

"Advisors and bureaucrats can play the role you play in court, and Alistair's blood and heroics more than make up for any goodwill you may have garnered during your rule. I want to know what you have to offer us."

"Let's not play games, Aedan. You know that I'm your best bet at fixing this country after the Blight. You care too much about people to let them fall into ruin after the Blight. You keep talking about blood being a strong symbol, so you're pushing the idea of Alistair on the throne- but at the same time, you know that I need to be on the throne to help this country, so why-"

Anora's eyes narrowed at Aedan. The side of her well-controlled smile twitched. Her gaze shot towards Alistair at the end of the hallway, who bickered with Oghren over a towering platter of cheese and crackers. Her gaze returned to land on Aedan.

"Please, no."

"It's the best option, and you know it."

Eamon too turned to the warden with a terse smile. Through slightly gritted teeth he said, "Would you excuse us, Anora? I'd like a word with Aedan in private."

"Please do."

Once Aedan and Eamon had adjourned to the nearby hallway, Eamon's smile disintegrated. The man paced back and forth in front of Aedan with his hands behind his back. He said nothing for awhile, until finally he asked, "Have you even consulted Alistair on this?"

Aedan took a step back to lean against the wall. His arms crossed in front of him. He needed to consider his words carefully. After all, Eamon was his only ally in the nobility so far."Not yet, but just let her think we're allying with her for now at least. We need her information right now for more ammunition against Loghain."

Eamon scratched at his jaw and narrowed his eyes."So, you're not seriously suggesting anything?"

The warden tilted his head back and forth as he looked away."I'm suggesting we have as many cards for when we play our hand."

"Anora is a exceptional person, with a great love for her country, but we don't need her."

"You alone cannot help Alistair when this is all over."

"How about you? Certainly with with your help as well..."

_I'll be dead_, thought Aedan, _so probably not_. He did not however voice that, instead he replied, "Most likely, as the last remaining Ferelden Grey Warden not occupied by royal business, I'll be killing the last vestiges of the Blight. I won't have time for the court."

"There is also the fact that…" Eamon stopped to clear his throat, then spoke a little softer, "she did not manage to produce any children yet, and children are very big factor in preserving a bloodline."

Ah. There it was. Eamon claimed not to care about blood, but Aedan knew he cared deeply for the Calenhad bloodline. He didn't think Eamon particularly disliked Anora, but facts were facts. A heir needed to be produced and Anora had produced none. All her hard work and passion were ignored for simply this.

"I think Alistair is a testament that you don't need be born of a queen to take the throne," stated Aedan, "Worst comes to worst…well, I doubt Cailan was completely faithful."

Eamon sighed. "And what of Alistair's opinion of this?"

"I will talk to him about this. I won't make him do anything he doesn't want, but I'll try to make him see reason. I'm just trying to have as many options as possible right now."

Eamon stroked his beard in thought. After some time pondering, Eamon finally relented, "Very well. If you can secure this alliance, I do agree this would be the best option. She is capable and loved by the people. Let us see what Anora thinks."

Aedan and Eamon returned from the hallway and sat back down in the living room with Anora, each taking a quick breath before doing so. Eamon addressed Anora,"After talking it over with Aedan...we would like to offer an alliance. You marry Alistair, and we support your bid for the throne."

"Marrying Cailan's brother...not what I expected to get out of today." Anora took a deep breath. She picked up her tea cup and took a extra long sip, breaking eye contact with Aedan as she did so. Her eyes narrowed in thought. She tipped the cup back a little more, then set it back down. It rattled slightly, unlike before.

"I will not simply be a 'wife'," stated Anora, "This will be a full partnership. I am tired of being overshadowed by my lessers, being limited by silly formalities. If am to wed him, it will be as his equal monarch."

Eamon and Aedan shared a look. Eamon nodded once. Aedan turned back to Anora and nodded as well."That sounds more than reasonable."

"Give me time to consider this. I would also like to hear Alistair's opinion on this as well. If he is not consenting, I shall not either. I know Alistair has no great love for my father, and I will not spend my ruling days with my husband glaring at me."

"I'll talk to him," said Aedan.

The three sat in silence while they all sipped their tea simultaneously. As they all put their cups down, Anora remarked,"I am sure you have more important business to attend to Eamon then chatting here with us. I would have a word alone with Aedan. Not business, just personal."

Eamon tilted his head a bit and frowned. Nevertheless, he made his way to the door and bowed his head once."By your leave, Anora," he said, before quietly shutting the door behind him. Once the door had shut for a sufficient amount of time, Aedan asked, "What do you wish to speak about, without Eamon?"

Anora's, who usually placed her hands neatly on her lap, now wrung them together. "I would speak of my father."

* * *

><p><em>Author's notes<em>

yayyy new chapter. Definitely not as tumultuous as the last one, but the rollercoaster's not over yet. Quick note for those of you who have not read Dragon Age: Stolen Throne- Rowan is the name of Maric's queen. She and Loghain were in love, but she had been arranged to marry Maric. When Ferelden achieved freedom from Orlais, she and Maric married for the greater good of the kingdom, and bore Cailan. Rowan was also Eamon's sister...so when Eamon uses the name in front of Loghain, it means business.

Stay tuned, and as always feel free to review, ask question, or leave constructive criticism.

Lolord: Glad you liked the crying scene. We're definitely starting to near the end, but not as close as you think. Still have the Alienage, the Landsmeet, and more to deal with it.

Urazz: It was definitely a mix of Avernus's mixture and his psychological state as you say, leaning towards the psychological state- look for more on that later. As for what I'll do after this...I have several ideas.

sketchywolf: Glad you thought it was great!

Brochacho1: Oh I'll definitely be keeping up the touching and emotional shit. Just you wait and see.

PhantomRobar: Happy you enjoyed the chapter. Yeah, Aedan's definitely on the road to recovery. We'll see how that plays out.

Guest: Well, I guess we'll see what Aedan has to say about next chapter, won't we?

Jarjaxle: I was actually considering something far more gruesome, but decided that crushing the man's hands into a bloody pulp was pretty terrible already. Haha and yes you can be sure Morrigan will try her best to convince Aedan of the ritual.

deathwing316: We'll see…

Guest: Glad you like the fic! My primary focus was definitely character development, so I'm glad you enjoyed that.


	58. Weaknesses

**Part 7: Strength**

_Chapter 58: Weaknesses_

Anora poured herself another cup of tea. "You and my father are very similar."

Aedan narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and leaned backwards in his chair. "If that is your attempt at a compliment, please remember what your father has done."

With a single raised eyebrow, the queen replied, "I have heard of your exploits, so I'll reiterate: you two are very similar."

"So you've heard about Orzammar," sighed Aedan. He looked down at the floor and grimaced. "Tell me, is it a well known thing above the surface?"

"Not at all. The dwarves value their privacy, and we only found out that Bhelen took the throne and killed House Harrowmont a few weeks ago. If our source are correct, then you were the one who put him in power, and were thus privy to his decision to kill the entire House."

Aedan said nothing for awhile. He stared at the ground whilst wringing his hands. No doubt there was those who escaped the slaughter of the house. Aedan recalled the woman in Dust Town who had called him a monster. He wondered if those remaining Harrowmont survivors would call him the same. He looked back up at Anora. "I made a choice- a dwarven army, as well as stability for their own kingdom, in exchange for those lives. I regret I had to make that decision, but I would do it again."

"I am not judging you, Warden," replied Anora. She blew on her tea and took another sip. "I have no right to judge you. I was not there. I have not seen the things you have. I have barely been in battle myself. By the same logic, I would not trust other nobles or soldiers to judge my father. The common soldier does not understand the decisions he has had to made, and the nobles do not understand the hardships he has gone through. You understand both."

Anora set her tea down slowly. Anora hesitated and swallowed, despite not having tea in hand. "Most of all, he has wronged you the most. He betrayed you and your order. He branded you a criminal and sent assassins after you. He allied with the man who killed your family. He had you tortured. You are the only one who understands the depths of his crimes, and why he made them."

She looked over at the Warden. He saw her cheek twitch as she bit the inside of her lip."Are you going to kill him? Like you killed Howe?"

"Howe had to die. He killed my family out of greed. He was going off the deep end, abducting and killing innocents. If you saw even for a second what he- what he did-"

_Maggots squirming, rotted bodies, dried blood, I should have been there-_

Aedan covered his face with his hand and rubbed his eyes. His heartbeat quickened.

"My father is not Howe," said Anora, "but he is not the man he once was...but he could be again, if you give him the chance. I simply ask that you take that into consideration."

"If he is so similar to me, then I will judge him as harshly as I judge what I have done."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

Aedan sighed and pulled out his flask. It'd been too long since his last drink. Decorum be damned. He swigged from his flask. "That's your answer."

"You mind?" asked Anora, pointing at the flask and back to her.

"It's whiskey, you sure?" Aedan slid the flask across the living room table.

"Good," said Anora, tipping her head back and taking a shot, "I need something strong." The queen, much to Aedan's surprise, stopped sitting upright and leaned back in her chair. Her right ankle crossed over onto the top of left knee. She slide the flask back to Aedan.

"Long day?"

"Long year."

"Too true," breathed Aedan, downing another swig of the whiskey. "I'm surprised that you would drink in the presence of company."

"I present the right image to the right people- Eamon for one. I have no doubt that he would see me thrown away if it suited the Calenhad bloodline."

"And to me?"

"I rather think you don't care." Anora made a little a laugh and smiled at Aedan."Aedan Cousland...well adept at charming nobles, but always kept away from court. Has a tendency for drinking and tomfoolery, which some may look down upon. Second-born, so holds less influence in the courts, but still a Cousland, so still quite a lot. Despite his potential for being a major player in the nobility, he instead chooses to perfect his physical skills. Of course, this is what I heard of you before the Blight started from your mother. I believe the words 'brat' and 'glutton' were also used, but I that was more motherly endearment."

Aedan rubbed the back of his neck and looked out the window."Of course she said that."

Anora picked up her teacup again, She looked at it wistfully and sighed."We used to drink tea together and meet up to talk politics, Eleanor and I. I still remember what she used to take. A dab of cream-"

"And one cube of sugar," finished Aedan. He took a single cube from the ones on the table. He flicked at it with his fingers, then popped it into his mouth. The warden frowned. Too sweet.

"Did Eleanor ever speak of me?" asked Anora.

"Anora Mac Tir. Strong, driven, passionate, and most of all, knows how to write a very sternly worded letter. A politician through and through, but a good-hearted one."

"Good hearted is not the word most people would use to describe me."

"I did put 'politican' ahead of it, so it cancels out...you know, all this sentimental talk about my mother could just be you trying to butter me up as one my allies, only to backstab me later. I get stabbed a lot."

"And you might simply be joking about this alliance with me, and plan to throw me away me at the first chance you get. I get plotted against a lot."

Aedan laughed. Anora chuckled back. He took his flask, poured out half into glass, and handed it to Anora. The queen clinked her glass against his. "Cheers."

Aedan raised his glass. "Cheers." The warden tipped his glass back and savoured the familiar taste of whiskey. A warm feeling radiated from his chest. He looked back Anora, who surprisingly took her alchohol well. Usually by now Alistair would be cringing at the taste of the whiskey, but Anora simply wiped a single stray droplet from her lips and exhaled slowly through her nose.

"What would you have done at Ostagar?" asked Anora rather abruptly and in a quieter tone. The warden grimaced and took a deep sigh. Whilst he pondered, he held his glass up in front of his face and swirled the golden-brown alcohol about. "We could not win Ostagar. I saw that horde...but I think we could have saved Cailan."

"How many would it have taken?"

"Enough to ensure he got out of there safely. The horde was massive. A hundred or so men might have been able to accomplish it."

"You would throw away a hundred mens' lives for one?"

"We've lost more than that in the chaos left by Cailan's absence. The civil war, Uldred's rebellion, and the tragedy of Redcliffe, both directly resulted from Loghain's actions. Perhaps in peacetime, the loss of a leader would be acceptable, but not in a Blight."

Aedan smiled sadly as he saw Anora peered at him with eyes you could barely tell were narrowed. Her mouth lay slightly agape. Her body shifted in her chair a bit to the right so it no longer directly faced him. Inside that head of hers, she did the same as him: calculating, planning, evaluating. No doubt she weighed her father and him in her mind. She had as much a choice to make as to who to support- and when a man told you he'd sacrifice a hundred men for one, Aedan couldn't blame her for reevaluating.

"Another time, Anora," said Aedan. He placed his empty glass on the table and pocketed his flask. "The sun's starting to set. I'd like to see how much remains of my former estate."

* * *

><p>"Well, we didn't stay here often," said Aedan, "but you could consider it my room."<p>

Aedan opened the door to his old room. Morrigan walked in behind him and began to peer about.

Morrigan plopped down on the bed as her eyes scanned the room. Most of the valuables had been ransacked. Open drawers held nothing but some old clothing. Overturned books lay scattered on the floor. She kicked at one of the books to flip it over. _An Overview of the Orlesian War_, by Brother Genitivi, and next to it, _Battles and Blades: Analysis of Greatest Battles of Thedas. _Morrigan picked up one of Aedan's old shirts and held it up over her own torso and stifled a laugh. The shirt would barely fit her.

"Tis hard to believe you were ever this small," she said, "Is there perhaps a matching sword and shield for someone of this size? Most likely you were probably swinging one around at that age."

"What is it with you people thinking I was born with a sword and shield in my hands?" scoffed Aedan. Morrigan stuffed it back into the drawer and continued to peruse around the room. Aedan nervously drummed his fingers against the bed post as the curious Morrigan explored. Her finger glided across an acrylic painting that hung crooked on the wall.

"What is this?"

"...A painting of fruit."

"Thank you for your wonderful insight," drawled Morrigan, "Are you such a glutton that you would gaze at pictures of food in your spare time, like a mabari?"

"No. I like the painting. I could just grab food anytime I wanted."

"I would not peg you for liking art. Interesting."

Morrigan peered down beneath Aedan's bed. A shiver ran down his spine, though Aedan didn't know why. He was forgetting something, what was it?

"And what is this?" Morrigan lifted up a black lace women's thong from beneath Aedan's bed. Ice cold eyes stabbed at Aedan. As Aedan glimpsed into the bottomless abyss, his hands went clammy and an unbridled sense of terror ran down his spine. The sides of Morrigan's mouth twisted into a scowl the likes of which he had never seen from her.

_This how I die, _thought Aedan as a single bead of sweat dripped down the side of his head. The warden gulped, but his mouth had gone dry. Aedan recalled having brought Isabela into this room, the first time he had been back to Denerim, both drunk off alcohol and the thrill of theft. That had been almost a year ago, before he had gotten together with Morrigan. No doubt Morrigan could surmise this article of clothing preceded them, but she would still fume regardless.

Aedan exhaled slowly and and leaned back against the wall. If he had learned anything with Morrigan, it was never to falter. Aedan forced himself to grin."What does it look like?" he teased, "You tell me. Looks like some sort of cloth to me. Perhaps decorative, like the fruit painting."

Morrigan's mouth twitched. "You're a pig."

"Some-one's-jea-lous," cooed Aedan. He started walking towards Morrigan. The witch jumped a little and dropped the underwear onto the floor and took a step backwards.

"Why would I be? We are not such prudes that neither of have taken a lover before this. I simply do not leave the evidence lying around like a sloppy mabari."

"A lover? What's going on in your head? Those are mine." Aedan rubbed his bottom and grinned, this time for real. "Some days I like to wear silky underthings. Let the little guy breathe a little. Where's your mind going?"

Morrigan's back thudded against the door. The frame rattled. Aedan propped his hand against the frame as he stood over the witch."Are you imagining me ripping off someone else's bottom? Slamming them up against this door?"

"N-no," retorted Morrigan.

Aedan watched the witch with a smile. Her hands fidgeted against the door. As she ground her front teeth, they bared and peeked from beneath her lips. She glared back at him, her face flushed.

"Has anyone ever told you how much fun it is to tease you?"

"You. Several times."

"...Oh, yeah, I guess I have." Aedan looked down at Morrigan and gently lifted her chin. "Don't worry. You've said it yourself, I'm like a mabari. We don't tend to wander." Aedan planted a kiss on her lips.

"I do not care. You are not mine and I am not yours. I simply do not wish to share whilst I am still using something," muttered Morrigan with crossed arms.

Leaning in, Aedan whispered in Morrigan's ear,"And what pray tell do you wish to use me for?" He felt Morrigan inhale against his neck. Her lips leaned in and brushed against his skin. Aedan leaned back out, then stared into Morrigan's eyes. Aedan remembered the last time he had been with her, and not simply slept by her side. The frenzied breaths, the feel of her around him, her hands clutching at him. The memory overtook Aedan and he pressed into Morrigan's lips. The two shared a series of heated kisses- short, soft, sweet. After the third, Morrigan glanced away and bit her lip. Despite him staring straight forward, Morrigan would not look him in the eyes. Her hand clung to his chest, pulling and pushing simultaneously. Aedan smiled and embraced her in a hug. He still remembered how Morrigan talked of being overwhelmed by her emotions, that night when they had separated after Orzammar. Aedan felt her uncertain heart racing as her chest pressed against his.

"At your pace, okay?" he whispered in her ear. He kissed her once on the forehead, released her from his grasp, and opened the door. "Come on. Let's eat." Morrigan nodded once and gave him a quick peck back in thanks.

After Aedan had departed, Morrigan stood against the door frame and let her breath and heart die down. He was right, it was best that she not let herself be overwhelmed. Still, Morrigan rubbed her lips as her chest twinged with slight disappointment. Her eyes wandered back down to the offending object. She scowled at the black thong left on the floor. With a blink of her eyes, it burst into flames and crumbled into ash.

* * *

><p>Her stomach growled. The woman sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes and looked over at Aedan. For some reason, when Aedan had first sat down on the bed, he had that same look in his eyes as back in Highever. He had trembled briefly and gazed into the distance, then forced himself to lay still as a plank beneath the sheets. The last time she had seen him lay in a bed was when her mother had brought the wounded man into their hut. Even now as he slept, Morrigan watch his eyelids and fingers twitch. His lips mouthed quiet words she could not make out.<p>

Her stomach rumbled again. She lit a small flame at the edge of her finger to help guide her through the darkness of the room. She did not need to move far down the hallway to find the kitchen- Aedan's room had been placed relatively close by. No doubt in his younger days Aedan had chosen it for that specific reason.

Morrigan opened the door to the kitchen to find two others there: Wynne and Oghren, a rare combination. The witch's eyebrows lifted. Wynne sat with filled pint glass in hand. Oghren meanwhile was filled up his own mug with more ale from a keg. Morrigan had always seen Oghren lugging that forsaken thing around. The dwarf raised his glass to her and gave a hearty grin. "Swamp witch! Try some of my ale!"

"I would sooner drink poison." The witch instead grabbed a leftover dinner roll from a tray left on the table. She took a seat next to Wynne such that the elder mage sat between her and the drunken dwarf.

"Technically alcohol is a poison- but it only kills the bad stuff!" laughed Oghren.

The witch bit off a piece of the slightly buttery roll and spoke without turning to Wynne."I am surprised that you would drink his...swill."

"Say what you will, but Oghren can brew a mighty fine ale." Wynne took a small, calm sip, whereas Oghren chugged his glass then got more from his cask.

"So, things are going well between you and the big guy," giggled Oghren, "Sharing quarters and all that."

"Tis simply a return to the previous arrangement. Nothing more, nothing less."

"So tell me, since you can morph into a dog, is your favorite position-"

Morrigan lit a small flame at the edge of her fingers and pointed it at Oghren."Careful with your next words, dwarf. I bet there is enough alcohol soaked into that beard of yours for me to light it on fire and have it explode and kill you." The dwarf drunkenly laughed and chugged another pint of ale, despite the fire mere inches from his face. Morrigan cringed as a bit of the foamy liquid splashed onto her face. Perhaps she ought to set fire to him now anyways.

"So what do you think of our new ally, the queen?" asked Wynne.

"Tis odd that you would ask me such a thing," replied Morrigan. "I barely know her or her regime."

"It would be interesting to get an outsider's opinion."

"She uses whatever she can to get what she wants, and what she wants is the throne. She is a woman of singular purpose. I respect her drive to take the throne, despite not having any real claim to it."

"You respect her?"

"As much as I respect anybody who wishes to control a useless bunch of politicians who squabbled whilst a Blight knocked on their door...but still, a slight modicum of respect. I suppose being a queen is a suitable goal. Tis power in it's own way. And you?"

"She has been a good leader of Ferelden these past five years...but she is still Loghain's daughter. I am wary of her intentions."

Oghren let a huge belch rumbled through the air. He slapped his belly and kicked back in his seat. "I don't care who get's the throne, as long as I get a big party afterwards for good ole Oghren. Either the man-boy gets put on or the ice queen, but either way I'm getting my booze. What do you ladies want for your reward for killing that big dragon-thingy? Cause you know, I'm always willing to break off a piece of the Oghren for you." Oghren raised his eyebrows repeatedly and grinned. Both women gagged on their food.

"I will settle with stopping the Blight, first off. I do not think I will live longer after that. I am old, and I have already died once."

"Tis easier not to dwell on the future," mused Morrigan, "For once I agree with you."

"Oh you two are no fun. How about a mountain of gold, or a statue made in your honor? Dream a little, ladies! Wynne, we could commission the finest artist to finally sculpt that magical bosom of yours."

"Suddenly my ale does not taste as good," remarked Wynne as she put down her pint glass.

"And you swamp witch! Always going on about power, power, power. They've probably got some ancient magical doo-hickey you want."

"What stunning logic," drawled the witch.

"Or perhaps you're planning on having some little Morrigans running around? Stone knows we could use a couple of Aedans too- two more Blights after this one," snickered Oghren.

"Enough". Morrigan glanced at the door she had entered through. She abruptly sat up and left the room. Her pace hastened with each step down the dark hallway. All this talk of the future made her chest tighten.

The day of the ritual drew ever nearer. Morrigan had not expected them to gather the armies so soon. For once, she lamented how capable Aedan was. Who would have thought he could have done all this?

Morrigan opened the door to Aedan's room. Somehow in his sleep he had managed to sprawl his limbs everywhere. The once neat sheet and blankets now twisted into hills and valleys of soft Ferelden cotton. Morrigan pulled back the sheet and settled back next to Aedan in the bed. The man grunted half-asleep as Morrigan lay her head down on his arm like a pillow. The witch tilted her head to watch the man sleep and the rise and fall of his breathing. She brushed her finger against his prickly stubble and smiled. She'd have to remind the man to shave in the morning.

_How many mornings left do we have? The Landsmeet will occur in a week or two, then the armies must march to meet, perhaps another week or so for that...and then we will no doubt find the beast itself. A month_, thought Morrigan. She clutched Aedan's arm tight. _Only a month. _

Her mind wandered to Oghren's comment: an image of Aedan and her holding a baby in their arms together. Morrigan bit her lip. The child was a thing of necessity, not of want. If she confused one for the other, her path would be clouded. She chided herself mentally, but her eyes wandered to the man on whose arm she rested. Her lips unconsciously parted and her hand lingered over her fluttering stomach.

_Inside...will be his child…_

Morrigan fidgeted in place, and her elbow brushed up against Aedan's side. "Still awake?" yawned Aedan. He rolled over and kissed her lightly on the lips.

_At your pace, he says...he does not know what little time we have left._

Just as he was about to roll back over, Morrigan pulled him back to kiss her again. Her hands wrapped about his torso as she let her lips part and let the kiss deepen. She drew back and stared at him with wanting eyes. Aedan hands grasped her shoulders, and Morrigan could feel his fingers fumble. Aedan swallowed, attempting to restrain himself, but Morrigan nuzzled into his neck and breathed one long, heated, hazy breath against his skin. She slid her hands beneath his shirt. Her lips dragged against his neck as she nodded once.

_No matter what, I will do what needs to be done. I will cut off that which makes me weak._

At that, Aedan rolled Morrigan onto her back. The last vestiges of his self-control gone, Aedan threw his shirt off and proceeded to tear Morrigan's clothing from her body. His hands wandered over every inch of her. Her skin tingled at his touch and her body arched against his.

_So for now, while I still can, even it overwhelms me-_

Their lips only parted for heated gasps at air. Her hips grinded against him, and in response Aedan dragged his hands down against her pale skin and grasped her by the hips. Morrigan shuddered in anticipation as she felt him brush up against her entrance.

_I will allow myself this one weakness._

Then he rammed into her, and her mind melted to a hazy white of pleasure.

* * *

><p><em>Author's notes.<em>

Another chapter down. Next time- the Alienage. On a side note, these smaller chapters seem to really be working for me (before this, I had chapters 6000+ words in size, this one clocked in at about 4000). I'll try to keep churning out chapters about this size on a weekly basis. As always, feel free to review, ask questions, or leave constructive criticism.

Urazz: We'll see who rules in the end. Anora, while certainly not a terrible person, is still her father's daughter. As for Loghain...we'll see. There will definitely be discussion between Riordan and Aedan regarding that, seeing as how Aedan knows what happens with the Archdemon.

Writer of Epics: If you remember, sometime in chapter 18 or 19 (I forget which), Aedan meets Isabela, and the two have a wild night, which includes stealing many valuables from the Cousland Estate to sell, as well as something that left evidence as seen in this chapter.

Brochacho1: Thanks for the compliment! Hope you enjoy this chapter, I know how much you like the Aedan/Morrigan.

deathwing316: happy new year to you too! As for Aedan...we'll see.

Jarjaxle: Yeah, Aedan's willingness to own up to his decisions is definately one of the things that sets him apart from Loghain. For me, Loghain's biggest flaw was his hatred for Orlais. Granted, the man had much reason to hate the country, but in the time of the Blight he should have put that aside.

Bloodwolf432: There's definately going to be multiple opportunities for Aedan to opt out of his sacrifice, so it'll be interesting to see where he's at when those opportunities knock.

Guest: I really liked the change in character they had for Morrigan in DA:I, and I'll definitely show her growing more towards that attitude.


	59. Names

**Part 7: Strength**

_Chapter 59: Names_

_A little dribble blood dribbles out as the sword plunges through her chest. I was just laying in my bed, just laying there like nothing was wrong and then everything went wrong. Rotted bodies staring back at him, accusing him._

"_You couldn't protect us," they whisper. "How can you protect them? How can you protect her?"_

"_Who are you without your responsibility? Just a drunk with a sword, that's what," they slither, their decrepit hands dragging him down into the lake of blood-_

Aedan bolted up in the bed and clutched at his racing heart. _I'm not there I'm not there. _His clammy hands patted down the side of his bed for his sword. Aedan gripped the handle in a death vice. He clenched his teeth then took deep, pained breaths. The scars in his right arm throbbed. Aedan reached for his flask and took a swig. Just a little bit, just enough to help him calm down. Aedan set his flask down, wiped his sweaty brow, then felt for the flask to take another sip.

This was his first night in an actual bed since that night in bed engulfed him like a pool of water. The sheets were silky smooth like the backside of a well-made blade. His pillow swallowed the backside of his head, as though trying to suffocate him.

Yet there was at least one good thing here. Aedan rolled over and looked over at the woman quietly slumbering next to him. He placed his palm on the top of her head and ran his fingers through her soft black hair. Morrigan didn't wear her hair down often- the frequent fireballs she cast threatened to singe anything not tied up. He took a sole strand and rolled it between his fingers.

A small electric shock zapped his side, eliciting a yelp from Aedan. Morrigan rustled against Aedan. "Stop messing up my hair, fool." Her eyelids drooped as she rested her head on his arm.

"What else am I supposed to do when I can't sleep except bother you?" Aedan brushed aside a stray bang from Morrigan's face.

"Figure out how to sleep, I'm sure you're smart enough," mumbled Morrigan.

Aedan pulled the drowsy Morrigan closer with his arm. In response she nuzzled her head into it. A few minutes later, a single gentle snore escaped Morrigan's mouth. Aedan smiled. When he could not sleep, Aedan used to simply sit alone by the campfire. The fire would flicker and flare and the smoke would blow in his eyes. Morrigan reminded him of the campfire- in her waking hours she blazed like a fire- harsh, bright, blinding, but now she simply lay there imparting a gentle warmth to Aedan.

His smile wavered. If he was dead, he couldn't feel this. This warmth of her skin against his. The gentle rise and fall of her chest. Aedan shook his head. There was no point to thinking on what-ifs. He would be dead soon. He should simply enjoy what he had while he still could.

Would it hurt? Aedan closed his eyes and concentrated on the void of darkness beneath his shut eyes. Someone once told him that it would simply like it was before he was born- remembering and feeling nothing. It would be good. It had to be good. Nothingness meant no pain, no fighting, and no suffering.

Aedan lost in his thoughts barely noticed the sun trickling through the broken windows of his room.

* * *

><p>For today's mission, Aedan had selected Morrigan, Alistair, and Leliana. Bringing in too large a force might alert whoever was operating in the Alienage. Out of all the members, these three were the least conspicuous, and covered most of the combat bases- Morrigan handled the magic, Leliana handled the spywork and archery, and he and Alistair would handle the front lines.<p>

Aedan rubbed the back of his neck in irritation. All they had to go on was Anora's vague hunch. Being the queen of Ferelden, one would think she could gather more information than that.

_Speaking of the throne._ Aedan rolled his shoulders a bit to loosen them up. He quickened his pace so that he and Alistair were in front of Morrigan and Leliana. "So, Alistair, what do you think about Anora?"

Aedan knew Anora and Alistair would be strongest force to rebuild Ferelden in the days to come: Anora to manage the kingdom, and Alistair to inspire the people...but if it came down to it, if Alistair opposed it, Aedan would not make him marry Anora, nor take the throne. He owed his friend that much.

Alistair scratched his chin and shrugged. "Sort of cold and harsh. She seems a lot like her father."

_That does not inspire confidence._ The warden cleared his throat."I mean-" Aedan leaned into Alistair's ear, out of earshot of Morrigan. "-as a woman."

Alistair scrunched his brow."I mean she's pretty enough I guess. What brought this on?" The templar wrapped his arm around Aedan's shoulder. With a grin, Alistair snickered,"Morrigan not satisfying you?"

"I can hear everything you fools are saying when you whisper," said Morrigan from behind the two. "Why you two have not learnt this lesson, I do not know."

"Yes, just like I could hear everything you two were doing last night." Alistair glared once at Aedan than at Morrigan. "Thanks for telling me about how thin the walls are by the way."

"It's just guy talk," said Aedan who stared at Morrigan and gave her a small nod. "Just talking about things that are essential to talk about." Morrigan rolled her eyes, but silently mouthed 'Fine.' Aedan sighed in relief- it seems she had gotten the gist of Aedan's goal.

Morrigan forced herself to stop frowning. "Very well-"

"Oh are we talking about the woman around us now?" interrupted Alistair. "You know, that girl you've been seeing recently-" Alistair faced Morrigan and spoke a little louder, "she's terrible and I hate her."

"Now who's the mean one," fake pouted Morrigan.

"As if anything I said could hurt you."

"Perhaps you are not as stupid as I thought," said Morrigan, her voice raising, "so above a rock and below a nug."

Seeing as how they were fast approaching the guards in front of the Alienage, Aedan wanted to make as little ruckus as possible. He stepped in between Morrigan and Alistair."Okay, I'm just going to nip this in the bud. Alistair, please stop."

Alistair grumbled once before muttering,"Fine."

Aedan turned to Morrigan, who looked at him with crossed arms."Morrigan, stop."

"I doubt there is anything in the world you could do to get me to stop badgering Alistair. Tis my second favorite thing in the world to do." Morrigan smirked at Alistair. "Apparently Alistair has already heard what my favorite thing to do is."

Whilst the templar gagged, Aedan rubbed his temples. "I don't know, I'll.." Aedan snapped his fingers and pointed at Morrigan. "I'll call you by some sort of horrible nickname. I'll think of something….Morr-morr."

Morrigan halted mid-walk. She sneered and the side of her mouth twitched."Do not call me that if you value your life."

Alistair opened his mouth to say the first syllables, but covered his mouth before the rest of the name could leave his mouth. Leliana looked off into the far distance suddenly fascinated with the decrepit apartment buildings.

Aedan snapped his fingers again."Morri-bear."

Alistair patted Aedan on the back."You are a braver man than me."

"Please stop," whispered Leliana, "For the good of Ferelden, please stop."

Morrigan continued to glare at Aedan. Aedan smiled at Morrigan's narrowed eyes. "I know that look. That's your 'Aedan is going to pay for this later' look. That's my second favorite look." He leaned over and kissed on the top of her head. "Smoochigan."

Morrigan pushed his face away with her hand and scowled, "I know that look. That's your 'I don't think I'm going to get my comeuppance' look. That's my second least favorite look."

"Is there an 'Alistair is going to pay for this later' look?" piped in Alistair, "It might be in my best interest to figure out when that's going to happen."

"She just verbally berates you. She doesn't really consider you a threat."

"Now who's the hurtful one?"

* * *

><p>With the proper bribe and lack of in-fighting, Aedan and his friends made it past the Alienage guards. Aedan took a big whiff as he entered. It smelled exactly like he remembered it- heavy with dirt, like a old garden with some rotted plants.<p>

"Have you been to the Alienage before?" asked Alistair.

"Many times actually," said Aedan, "Hopefully my friends-"

Before Aedan could finish his sentence, angry elves began pouring into the town square, screaming and carrying torches. Young and old stood united as they crowded in front a nearby building and protested. Robed men stood outdoors, their skin slightly tanner than those of all present. Tevinter, thought Aedan.

"-are not part of the angry mob."

"If you have any friends, they're bound to be part of an angry mob," said the templar.

Aedan looked at Alistair with a raised eyebrow. Alistair shrugged."You have chosen an….angry person to spend most of your time with. That guard friend of yours was also the grumpiest person I've ever met. Maker only knows what the rest of your old friends are like."

Aedan held his finger up and opened his mouth to protest, but held his words after a moment of thought. The man grunted under his breath and lowered his finger.

As the group neared the mob, a sole elf broke off to block their progress. "What are you doing here shems? Come to mock the elves in their time of desperation?" The red haired elf crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. With cold eyes the elf waved off Aedan and the others."Leave. This does not concern you."

"It may not, but I'm here to investigate regardless. I have a source who tells me that this disaster may very well be engineered."

"Oh so the elves can't take care of themselves? Let me tell you something-" The elf's mouth opened wide, a slew of expletives on her tongue, but her eyes glanced over Aedan's face and she paused. She leaned in closer and squinted her eyes."Wait. I know you." She scratched her head as she continued to observe Aedan.

"I used to come by and-"

"Oh!" Shianni snapped her fingers. She made a motion with her hand as though she was chugging from a bottle. With a grin, she pointed at Aedan. "Dancing man." She pointed at herself and greeted, "Shianni, which you probably don't remember considering I was about half my height and you were drunk all the time."

Aedan covered his slightly flushed face with his hand. He looked off to the side and stammered, "At one point...perhaps some people may have called me that one time many many years ago so that time really isn't relevant- "

Alistair, Morrigan, and Leliana all widened their eyes. "Dancing man?" snickered Alistair as the smuggest grin crept across his face. "Our illustrious leader? Dancing? Please do tell."

Aedan shook his head at Shianni with pleading eyes. The elf smirked and lifted her chin upwards. "He used to come by here all the time and drink with Teharel. The first time he came by, he was so drunk he was dancing with a broom in the town square. All the elves came out, pointed, and laughed at the drunken shemlen and Teharel. I don't think I ever saw you sober...or not doing something stupid-"

Aedan cut her off with a loud cough. Through gritted teeth and reddened cheeks, Aedan muttered,"I'm actually a Grey Warden now, so..."

"Wow, they were really scraping the bottom of the barrel there, dancing man. Do you dance the Remi to scare off the darkspawn?"

Aedan coughed as loud as he could to outweigh the snickering of Alistair."You can just call me Warden."

Shianni pursed her lips and looked away for a moment, pretending to consider, but gave a toothy grin instead."No. I like dancing man better."

Morrigan lifted herself up with her toes and leaned her chin on Aedan's shoulder from behind him."And to think, only a few moments ago, you thought your comeuppance so far away," she cooed in his ear.

"Shut up," mumbled Aedan under his breath.

To that, Morrigan blew softly into his ear, then whispered, "Dancing man, go slay those darkspawn, hmm?"

"Dancing man, I have this new song I wrote, would you dance to it?" stated Leliana, who covered her smile with her mouth. A stifled giggle escaped her lips. Aedan rubbed his temples and groaned. He would never hear the end of this.

Shianni's smile soon faded, replaced by her previous furrowed brow and frown."So do you work for that big guy they've been talking about? 'The' Warden? Maybe you could get him to help us out or something, instead of some fancy drunk noble."

Aedan pointed at himself. "That's one of the nicknames the people have given me."

Shianni froze."You're THE Warden."

"Unless I'm forgetting killing giant demons and hordes of darkspawn, then yes, that's me."

The first time Shianni had seen Aedan, he had been running down the streets of the Alienage alongside the equally inebriated Teharel. 'Mommy', she had asked, 'Why isn't that shem wearing pants?'

"Maker help us," breathed Shianni.

Aedan grumbled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, regardless of how capable you think I am, we are here to help. We've heard rumors about something suspicious going on in the Alienage that Loghain has had part in. Do you want help or not?"

Shianni looked back over at the mob of elves. Her voice quieted as she said,"To be quite honest, we could really use any help we could get. We're rioting because of this so called plague. People started developing ordinary symptoms, like coughs and sore throats. Then these men in robes come: claims that the Chantry sent them to help cure the 'plague' we had caught. They take the 'sick' into their little compound, and we never see them again. After the first few times, we just chalked it up to the cure not working…" Shianni paused whilst her eyes fell to the ground. She rubbed her eyes for a bit, then looked back up. "Now we've had enough. We want to know what's happening."

Aedan reached over and held her shoulder with his hand. "We'll figure this out. I promise." Shianni nodded in silence. Aedan grimaced. Shianni's eyes were a little red and puffy.

"Have you seen Hijaya, Teharel's daughter?" asked Aedan. He peered over the top of the crowd with the small hope he might see her, but to no avail. "I know her house is on the other side of the Alienage, so it might be a long shot."

"Oh," said Shiani. She bit her lip and looked away. "I'm sorry...they just took her in a week ago."

"Shit. Aedan swallowed the lump in his throat."How about her husband and her kid?"

"Kids now," corrected Shianni. "Jarat is still with the children."

"Okay."Aedan took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. At least her children and Jarat were still safe.

"Warden," said Shianni. The elf wrung her hands and breathed,"I hope you can fix this. Please."

Aedan nodded once in acknowledgement, then turned back to the task at hand. The angry mob still roared in front of the so called clinic. The mages and guards in front stood with hands on their weapons. With their eyes set upon the mob threatening them, Aedan doubted they'd notice him and his friends.

"We can probably sneak past the guards and get in through the back of the house. Better not to involve the crowd in possible violence."

"Yes, and if need be, we have a suitable distraction on hand to keep them off of us," stated Morrigan. Aedan turned to her expecting her answer. In response, Morrigan hummed a lively dancing tune beneath her breath, the hint of a smile at the edge of her mouth.

"Oh god damn it."

* * *

><p>Aedan kicked aside a guard's body as he waltzed into the main room, only to be greeted by the sight of drawn arrows and swords. From what he had gleaned from the guards he had interrogated and spared, this was a slaving operation, and the smiling, ornately dressed man in front of him was their leader, Caladrius. Aedan scowled at the sight of him with his fine jewelry, lush clothing, and his healthy complexion- for right next to him beleaguered elves banged against the 's companions fanned out behind him, but once Aedan took a step forward, he heard the tightening of bowstrings.<p>

"Not one step further," stated Caladrius, "for both of our sakes."

"You're slavers. You're stealing people from their homes under the pretense of a plague. Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you now."

"I prefer the term business men. People, like anything, are a valuable commodity. Elves truthfully are less so, but money is money." Caladrius rapped his fingers against the cage walls of his slaves. He gave one of the elves a little wave and smirk."See, you're like me...a business man. Word has spread all the way to Tevinter of how you've been gathering alliances."

Aedan raised a single eyebrow. "I'd rather you not insinuate I'm like a slaver." He inaudibly tapped his foot twice with his toes against the platform, then finished with a slow tap of his heel. Morrigan saw this and gripped her staff tighter.

"Business man," emphasized Caladrius, pointing his finger at Aedan and grinning. "Now, if I wanted to be hurtful, I'd call you something like...a bloodthirsty soldier who only knows how to kill- but since we are going to be doing business together, we are both-" Caladrius outstretched his hands in front of him and smiled warmly, "business men. Nothing in this life comes free. Everything is paid for, whether by money, time, or blood. You've done your bargaining. Secured your little alliances. Paid your prices."

"So you're implying you have something I want."

"Very much so- a letter signed by the our dear Teyrn, allowing us free reign to sell the the elves of the Alienage as slaves. The bloody knife he used to stab your country in the back, if you will. Those nobles at the Landsmeet will eat this up, like dogs with a bone?" The slaver nibbled at his own fingers and chuckled at his own joke.

Aedan scowled at the pompous man."And what do you want for it?"

"Well, we came here to make a profit. If you want us to leave, you'll have to recoup our profit. Two hundred sovereigns for the letter, and another three hundred for your safety."

Aedan turned round and leaned against the wall with one hand. He stared down at the floor, but from the corner of his eye watched the half dozen men positioned to his left and right. He faced Caladrius once again with his hand on his sword hilt. "Counter offer. I take it from you, for free."

"Counter offer," retorted the Tevinter mage, "I kill you, and continue my business."

"Funny. I was thinking about making the same offer."

"Great minds think alike."

An arrow zipped towards the man's neck. With a wave of his hand, the arrow morphed into a feather and grazed his skin. Caladrius plucked the feather from the air and twirled it between his fingers.

"Do you really think you can defeat me? You dirty Fereldens think you amount to anything? Even now you scramble on the ground like bugs with the Blight having already swallowed half your country. Tevinter will walk over your corpses."

"Kill them all except the prince. I expect his head to have much more value alive than dead."

Six men on each side- Aedan and Alistair chokepointed the stairs to the platform. Arrows zipped towards the four. Morrigan tapped her staff against the ground and a bubble of force pulsed outwards from her. The arrows halted and twitched in mid air. Morrigan tapped her staff again against the floor. The arrows flipped around mid air and zoomed back outwards into the foreheads of those who had shot them.

"Feathers. How cute," smirked Morrigan, "I imagine that must of been your crowning achievement in Tevinter."

With a roar both Aedan and Alistair rammed their shields into the oncoming soldiers, sending them barreling down the stairs. Aedan lept down from the top of the stairs and slammed his sword into a soldier's neck as he landed. In a flurry of steel and flame, Caldrius's men soon fell bloodied to the ground.

"Get back!" screamed Caladrius as the four closed in on him. He waved his staff about, firing off random blasts of fire and ice. Elves screamed as their cages shook from the explosions of elemental energy. Seeing the immediate need to keep the elves safe, Aedan charged at him sword first. Caladrius's eye's glowed ghostly blue, and a wave of frost exploded outwards. The brunt of the blast hit Aedan's sword. Thick icicles hung off the man's blade and snaked towards his hand. Aedan slammed his sword against his shield. Shattered ice crumbled to the ground while Aedan brushed the ice off his still intact sword."I think he just tried to break my sword," grunted Aedan.

"The nerve of some people, really," said Alistair as he shook his head. Right as Caladrius shoved both of his hands forward to cast another spell, Alistair grabbed the man's wrists. The atmosphere rippled about Alistair's hands as Caladrius looked from Alistair and back to his hands, sweat dripping down his face. Alistair sighed as he shoved Caladrius towards Aedan."Should be good for about a minute."

Aedan whacked Caladrius in the face with his shield, and the man crumpled onto the ground. Caladrius held his shattered nose and coughed on the ground.

"What was that about us dirty Fereldens, crawling on the floor?" snarled Aedan. He slammed his foot into the man's stomach. Caladrius wailed as a sickening crunch echoed through the room.

"What do you want? Money? Power? I am a man of great influence in Tevinter, I can give you whatever you want?"

"At the top of my list, I think I'd like there to be one less slaver in the world."

"Think about-"

Aedan wrapped his gauntlet around the man's neck. Effortlessly Aedan hoisted Caladrius up in the air, the Tevinter man's legs dangling like a child as he squirmed about. Aedan let the smell of blood fill his nose, then crushed the man's windpipe beneath his grip. The slaver's body thudded against the floor. The blood dripped down Aedan's arm and onto his chestplate. Aedan flexed his gauntlet and tried to scrape what bits were left off onto the wall.

"Free the elves," grunted Aedan, "I'll search for the evidence he was talking about." Aedan knelt down and caught his breath. He heard the clattering of broken locks fall to the ground. From behind him he heard the frantic calls of the elves as they called for their loved ones amongst the horde that had just been freed. An occasional exultant cry from a child and the quiet, happy sobbing of a spouse would echo through the chamber, but mostly Aedan heard the tired groans.

The strands of his sweat drenched hair and the droplets of blood blocked his vision through his visor. Moments later, his helm clattered onto the ground. Aedan wiped his face with a dirty cloth. He patted down the Caladrius's pockets, and felt the crinkle of paper. He pulled out an envelope made of thick parchment. Aedan scowled as he read it. A official sanction from Loghain allowing the selling of the elves as slaves.

"So it's true...he sanctioned this...even more reason for the bastard to die," remarked Alistair as he read the letter over Aedan's shoulder.

"He must have been trying to refill the treasury. How much money did he and Howe spend?" mused Aedan. No doubt hiring Zevran, bribing officials to stay quiet about Ostagar and Howe's misdoings, and so many other mistakes had dipped into the treasury. He could see the logic behind the decisions, but that didn't change the fact that it was still one mistake to cover up another. Loghain's rule had spiralled out of control.

Mistake after mistake. That was what had led the world here. If the stories were to be believed, it was the mistake of the Tevinter magisters that had brought the Blight upon the world. It was the mistakes of Howe that had ripped Aedan from his home and into the Wardens. Aedan couldn't help but second-guess himself. If Loghain thought everything he himself had done was not a mistake, could Aedan himself be falling into that pattern? Was this, everything Aedan had done, a mistake? He tried to do what he thought was right, but what if he himself was blinded by his own pride?

Aedan peered around at the weary elves clutching each other and running out of the exits back to their family, but heard unfamiliar breathing directly behind him. Aedan's hand instinctively gripped his hilt. Female, medium height, lithe build. As he heard the female exhale, her voice trembled with a slight cough and weary breaths. Slaver? No, they had killed them all. Elf? Wouldn't they want to leave as soon as possible, why would they want to stay-

"They said you were dead."

Aedan's grip on his hilt loosened. He'd heard that voice so many times whenever he had visited Teharel. He remembered her barking at him and her father to stop cussing, or happily squealing as she spent time together with her husband. Aedan let his hand fall from his hilt as he turned back around. Hijaya stood before him, her skin a little paler and her cheeks thinner. Dirt and blood stained her hair. Hijaya reached her hand out as though to touch him, but stopped mid-way. Her fingers drew back. Her mouth twitched and her eyes fell to Aedan's hands. Aedan smiled sadly as he too stared at the fresh blood that still dripped from his gauntlets.

He coughed into his gauntlet and looked away."It's okay...let's get you home." He lightly reached over then tapped his hand against her shoulder. The elf's eyes glistened. Hijaya wrapped her arms around Aedan's torso as best she could.

"Long time no see," she whispered. Aedan's arm hovered over her back, before he let it rest there. He turned his palm away as not to stain her tattered blouse with the scarlet blood upon his hands.

* * *

><p><em>Author Notes:<em>

Wow, long time no see (read? write?). Sorry for the extra long delay- just finished my last semester of college, and I had to juggle several commitments. Luckily, I now have more free time.

I'm hoping to get the Landsmeet finished within the next month or so, and then we can move onto the Battle of Denerim.


	60. Company

**Part 7: Strength**

_Chapter 60: Company_

"And then my father flips Aedan over his back, but Aedan's pants get caught on a stray plank in the ceiling." Hijaya wiped the drink from her mouth and stifled her laugh."So Aedan's pants rip right off as he lands right on his back. Then Aedan lets out a sound like a dying animal and says, I kid you not-". Hijaya sprawled herself backwards over the wooden chair, and imitated a groaning Aedan."I think I broke my butt bone," she moaned in an overly deep voice.

The table erupted in laughter. A groan escaped from Aedan. "I never should have invited you for dinner here. It's supposed to be a secret we're here after all."

"His butt bone is just sore, that's all," laughed Alistair, slapping Aedan on the back. Oghren giggled incessantly as he poured himself another ale.

"I don't call it that anymore."

"What do you call it then?"

Aedan hesitated, stumbling over his own words."The bone…that's located on my backside."

"Ha!" cried Alistair, thrusting his finger at Aedan with a victorious grin, "He still calls it his butt bone!"

Hijaya motioned to the others with her finger and pointed at Aedan. "Watch. He'll get all grumpy and turn away like it doesn't bother him."

The warden scowled."I don't do that! I don't-"

"Oh you do," said Wynne without looking up from her food. Aedan grumbled and turned away with arms crossed, muttering something under his breath. The mage leaned back, took a sip of her wine, and gave a knowing smile to Hijaya.

"A more important question- why do so many of these stories end with Aedan's pants coming off?" asked Leliana. Aedan glared at the bard, but the bard simply replied with a devious smirk.

Oghren wrapped his arm around Aedan's shoulder and motioned his other in a wide arc towards the sky. "Imagine, Aedan. In another life, you could have been a stripper at the Pearl."

"Another life?" chuckled Zevran, "Aedan needs a career after the Blight. I will be sure to put in a good recommendation for you- my opinion is highly regarded there. Besides, Leliana and Alistair have told you already have dancing experience."

"Please no," mumbled Aedan under his breath, burying his reddened face in his hands.

"To dancing man!" cheered the rest of the table with raised glasses. Even Sten, despite only drinking water, raised his glass with a smile.

Aedan's forehead banged down upon the table."Kill me."

* * *

><p>Morrigan leaned on the railing outside on balcony. Zevran, Leliana, Aedan, and even Wynne chanted as Alistair and Oghren attempted to out-chug each other.<p>

"Morrigan, right?"

Morrigan turned to see Aedan's elven friend approaching from behind. Hijaya joined her in leaning on the balcony.

"Tis noisy in there," remarked Morrigan.

Hijaya laughed and looked back at crowded room. "I forgot how loud he could be sometimes."

Morrigan looked back as well. She smiled at the unfamiliar sight- Aedan at the table with others, cheering. "Tis rare to see him so...rowdy."

"He's not normally rowdy?"

"He'll drink, but not often with others. Most of the time he just sort of sits by the fire in silence. It's nice to know before this, he was just a happy fool."

"A fool, but a good man nonetheless." Hijaya looked far out into the distance, all the way towards the Alienage. Days earlier, the lights had been dark there. Now the candles of almost all the households brightened the cityscape. "He helped me and my father greatly."

"He seems fond of you and your father. Why do you remain in the Alienage, if I may ask? You could have leveraged your connection with Aedan's family, gotten yourself out of the Alienage."

"He offered to have us stay on as staff in Highever. Considering what happened in Highever, it seems better that we didn't."

"Well, I don't think you could have known that. At the very least, you could have leveraged him to get a better job. The Alienage is not the best place to be. Why do the elves not simply revolt?"

"We'd die."

"T'would be better to die free than to live subjugated."

Hijaya gave a Morrigan a lopsided grin. "Freedom doesn't keep your family fed. Sure, we don't accomplish much. The apartment is dirty and small, the humans look down upon us and scowl, and life can be hard...but I wake up next to Jarat, hold my children in my arms, and I think…" Hijaya twisted the ring on her finger and beamed. "I'm happy, and that's all that matters."

"Tis not something people like him or I have the luxury of worrying about."

Hijaya turned around to respond to that statement, but by the time she did Morrigan had already left to go inside. Instead Aedan now walked out towards the balcony. Hijaya watched as the Aedan and Morrigan shared a few words in passing, then a quiet laugh. The witch departed down into the hallways of the former Cousland estate, while Aedan leaned on the balcony next to Hijaya.

"She's nice, you know," stated Hijaya. Aedan whipped his head at her then shot her a bewildered glance.

"That's literally the first time I've heard that about Morrigan. Everyone else is "grr apostate" or something vulgar...although mostly that's just Alistair."

"Well not 'nice' nice, but nice for you."

A chuckle passed between the two, followed by silence. The two stood together on the balcony, not sure of what to say next. It'd been years since they'd last spoken.

"You know, if my father knew what you were doing, he'd be very proud," said Hijaya, breaking the silence.

"Thanks."

"Sometimes I think...that I never really knew him as well as you did. I never got to know about the things he did when he was part of that...group. I only got to see one side of him- the father. Sure, as the years went by he started drinking more and more, but he was always at his core good…" Hijaya's voice trailed off. "At least that's what I thought," she whispered, her gaze distant.

Aedan tapped her on the shoulder. Hijaya looked back up at him."Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"No," said Hijaya, "Of course not."

Aedan looked out into the courtyard, over at the old tree where he and his brother would play Fereldens vs Orlais. He grimaced. "I've done much worse things then your father at this point."

Hijaya recalled the sight of Aedan slaughtering the men in the warehouse. She could still feel the terror in her veins as she had watched Aedan crush the man's throat beneath his bare grip.

"Your father fought for what he thought was right. He fought for a better world for you. At the end of the day, I hope that's all that matters. I think the best you can do is just remember him as who he was to you. He gave you his love." Aedan placed his hand on Hijaya's shoulder. A sad smile flashed across his face. "Remember him that way."

Hijaya sighed and nodded in agreement."Wait here a second." Hijaya darted back inside, then returned with a wrapped bottle. "I never got around to giving this to you, but my father left this. I don't really drink the stuff."

Aedan took the bottle in his hands. He unwrapped the coarse paper about it. Golden brown liquid tumbled about inside."Whiskey. He hated whiskey."

"I know."

Aedan's eyes widened as he realized who the bottle was for."Oh."

"Guess he never got the chance to give it to you."

The two made small talk for a little while longer, catching up on how Hijaya's children and Jarat were doing. Soon the moon had risen far in the sky, and Hijaya had started yawning.

"It's getting late. I'm going to head back." Hijaya reached over and pinched Aedan's cheek. She chuckled once, before pulling Aedan in for a hug."Try not to lose your pants tonight, okay?"

* * *

><p>Aedan groaned as he returned the hug in full form. "Never going to let that go, are you?"<p>

No nightmare woke him tonight. Aedan stared at the wall for the second hour in a row. A faint wind fluttered through his broken window. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, the faint smell of trees lingered on the breeze- or perhaps he imagined it. His mind lingered on the image of Teharel's burial and the sapling that had grown over his body.

Aedan sat up in the bed, pulled a shirt over his head, and grabbed the bottle of whiskey Hijaya had given him. As he lifted himself off the bed, Morrigan rolled over half-asleep and saw Aedan moving to leave. "Where you going? Tis night." murmured Morrigan..

Aedan pulled his underpants back on, then his trousers. "I...have to go somewhere." He ruffled the top of Morrigan's head with his hand. "Just for a bit. I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Okay."

The door creaked as Aedan open it ever so slightly- enough so that he could fit through the crack, and still minimize the candlelight from the hallway. Midway through slipping through the door, he caught Morrigan glancing over at him. He paused in his path. "Do you want to come with me?" he asked.

Morrigan rubbed her eyes and sat up."You sure?"

Aedan took a deep breath then nodded."There's no reason I have to do it alone."

* * *

><p>He still remembered the steps he had taken, carrying Teharel's body with the others. Out the Alienage gate, down the alleyway with the barber, towards the eastern entrance. Though he remembered it so vividly, he had never walked this way since.<p>

Aedan and Morrigan found themselves at the edge of the city, where the forest lingered outside the walls. The rustling of leaves in the forest filled the night air. The sun had set not long ago, and with it it's warmth. Even Aedan shivered a little- He had gotten used to sitting by a campfire. . Aedan counted the steps from the gate to the left. One, two, three, four, five, six. He turned to his right and faced forward.

There it was. Young, strong bark had taken root in the ground and was beginning it's long, slow climb towards the sky. The sapling was taller than Aedan now. It's leaves had a fresh green hue to it that if Aedan squinted he could see even in the night. Was it the remnants of the magic Zathrian had used to plant it? Or was it simply the life that was Teharel's shining through the leaves.

The plain truth of the matter was the same thing that happened to his family had happened to Teharel. No doubt for the first few months, the man had lay rotted beneath the dirt with bugs and maggots crawling through his body and eating at him- yet there was something better to it. Something more beautiful, thought Aedan to himself. The decomposing body became fuel for the tree. He had become food, yes, but he had lived on in a way. His body fertilized the soil, and in doing so the tree grew strong and healthy. Would Aedan too, live on in some way? Aedan pondered this as he gathered twigs from about the forest. He had already promised Avernus usage of his body after his death. Though it felt more an extension of Avernus's legacy rather than Aedan's, at least he would bring progress.

That's all Aedan could really hope for. That generations after him would prosper in the world he left them. He would push the next generation a little bit forward, just as the previous generation, his family and Teharel, had done to him.

Aedan broke from his thoughts to find he had already placed the twigs in the circle for a campfire. Instinct had guided his hands. He had laid the circle a good distance away from the tree Teharel laid buried under. Behind him Morrigan's fingers snapped, and a small fire alit in the center of the twigs. Aedan undid the cork on the bottle and took the first swig. Smoky, with a hint of vanilla and nuts. Aedan let the opening of the bottle linger beneath his nose for a few more seconds and let the smell fill his lungs. Teharel had picked well.

"Mind telling me why you're sitting in front of a tree drinking?" asked Morrigan. The witch took her place next to him. She smiled. They had not sat together in front of a fire like this for awhile.

"Whoops, forgot." Aedan gestured the bottle at the tree. "Teharel, Morrigan. Morrigan, Teharel."

Morrigan looked at the tree, then back at Aedan. She raised a single eyebrow."You have a pet tree now, in addition to our pet rock." She smirked. "What next?"

"That's not-" Aedan rubbed his temples. "He's buried under-"

"I know- you don't need to tell me." The witch leaned forward towards Aedan's face, her chin in her hand. "Tis just jesting."

Aedan rolled his eyes."Anyone else, and they would have gotten indignant."

Morrigan flicked her finger at Aedan's face, like a cat playing with it's prey."Well, I consider myself lucky then that you are someone who enjoys my humor."

Aedan laughed heartily."He probably would have liked the joke too."

"Hmm. I like him more than Alistair already."

"That's not saying much."

Morrigan crossed one leg over the other and peered at the tree as well. Young, no more than several years, by her estimate. "It was not long ago?"

"Several years ago. Haven't been by since the funeral. Seeing as how he left this bottle for me, I figure I might visit him. Share a drink." Aedan chugged a couple of shots, wiped his mouth, then gasped for air.

"From the stories she told of him, he sounded..spirited."

"Well, he was drunk a lot of the time. We were. That's actually how we first met." He stared off into the far distance then sighed.

"I was drunk. Blackout drunk. I woke up the next morning laying on the floor of some random Alienage apartment with some hungover old geezer crabbing at me. Apparently some people had been harassing his daughter and him on the way through town. Teharel could have taken care of them with a snap of his finger, but what then? It'd just give the jackasses reason to sic the guard on the Alienage. Luckily, drunk me stumbled over and fought with the people bothering them."

"Drunk, fighting, and trying to solve someone's problem. Yes, that does sound like you."

Aedan gave a little chuckle. "I guess so." A sudden gust of wind rushed against Aedan's face, blowing nearby leaves into it."If I hadn't gotten piss drunk that day, I'd never had met Teharel. He'd never had trained me. Duncan probably wouldn't have come to recruit me. I'd be laying as a rotted corpse in Highever."

"The littlest thing," he murmured, "You just meet people one day...and then the next..." Aedan caught himself mid sentence, looked back at Morrigan, and gave her a sad smile.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I used to be a happy drunk. Nobody likes a downer."

"Tis okay," said Morrigan. She placed her hand over his. Aedan's expression brightened. He moved to take another sip, then sat up. He poured a little into the ground by the tree, then clinked the bottle up against it. "Miss drinking with you, buddy," he whispered. "Thanks for teaching me how to not to get killed." The man smiled, patted the tree on it's side, and took another big swig from the bottle.

"That's all I came to do," said Aedan. "We can go now if you want." The warden sat back down and closed the bottle.

Morrigan paused, then answered quietly."We are here now. We have a nice fire going." She slide in closer to Aedan. "We can stay for a bit more."

At that, Aedan reopened the bottle and took another big swig. Aedan raised the bottle to eye-level to check it's contents. He'd made a sizeable dent in it, but much still remained. Aedan offered the bottle towards Morrigan. "Want some? Better than drinking alone."

The witch grimaced at the sight of the bottle. She leaned her head forward then did a sharp inhale from the top. She gagged and waved the smell away from her. "How...how do you drink that?"

"I dunno. Sort of used to it. Have you never drank before?"

"When I had reached a certain age, my mother would allow me to explore into the villages nearby to satiate my curiosity for the outside world. There were restrictions though- I was not to drink. Alcohol clouds judgement, makes you sloppy. As an apostate, twas not a luxury I could afford."

Morrigan took another whiff of the whiskey. Her body shook visibly from head to toe at the scent.

Aedan gave a small chuckle."Oh yeah. Forgot how much it sucks the first time around. Think of it like medicine and down it quickly." Aedan demonstrated with a quick throw of his head backwards and a gulp of the whiskey down his throat. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Morrigan sighed and slumped her shoulders."One of the reasons I left the swamp was to see the world...and alcohol is plenty in the world. I have never tried it. At the very least I can try it once before I write it off."

The witch stared down in the golden liquid swimming into the bottle before her. She grimaced, then clenched her eyes shut. She threw her head back and did a quick swallow, then cringed as the burning aftertaste filled her mouth.

"Here, I got water," said Aedan as he pulled out a spare waterskin from his side. He handed it off to the witch. Morrigan took a small sip, and her

"Very warm feeling in the chest." Morrigan pounded her fist against her chest multiple times, trying to ease the coughing. Morrigan braced herself before she took another swig of the whiskey. "I can't believe I'm saying this but this makes me miss my mother's swamp juice."

"Do I even want to know what that is?"

"There is a certain noxious herb that grows within sludge of the swamp, deadly unless boiled exactly right. That monstrosity is what she used to make the rest of the mixture taste better. The rest is the stuff of nightmares."

"Proper nutrition, child!" mocked Morrigan. She likened her voice to Flemeth's and did a creaky cackle. "I did not raise you to become a fat and slovenly child like those outsiders! You're already looking chubby around the edges!"

"Geez. Flemeth sounds...rough."

"That is one way to put it. At the very least, she didn't try to burn me to death."

"Don't remind me." Aedan rubbed his shield-bearing hand and winced.

"T'was not all bad. In the same way that you are grateful to Teharel, I am grateful to my mother. She taught everything I knew- everything I needed to survive. We wouldn't have gotten this far without her. And-"

Morrigan glanced at Aedan. She smiled, wrapped her arm around his, and leaned her head him."Nothing."

"What? Say it."

"I don't need to say it."

"Say it," grinned Aedan knowingly.

The witch pinched his arm and frowned. "If you know what I was going to say, why make me say it?"

Aedan leaned in, brushed aside a stray bang, and kissed Morrigan on the forehead."More fun that way."

Morrigan nuzzled her head against his shoulder. "Fool."

* * *

><p>"You're a lightweight."<p>

"I weigh like..half of you...shut up,"muttered Morrigan. The witch, sitting squarely in Aedan's lap, attempted to move her hand over Aedan's mouth. Her wandering hand slapped him in the neck first, then his eye, then his nose. "Stop being so heavy."

"You've told me to shut up five times already."

"And yet you keep talking and spinning around incessantly."

"I'm not spinning around."

"Yes...yes...you are." Morrigan's hand finally found Aedan's mouth. Her hand slapped against it multiple times. Aedan chuckled then tried to pry her lithe fingers away. In response Morrigan tugged on his lips and grumbled beneath her breath.

"You've got that stupid grin on your face," she slurred.

"I'm spinning, how can you see my smile?"

"I just know you've got that stupid grin on your face." She twiddled her fingers in the air. "It's magic."

Morrigan, despite still remaining in Aedan's lap, felt around on the ground for something. "Bah. I'm done with you." She pick up a sole rock then placed it in her own lap. She petted the rock with her hand. "I'm replacing you with this guy here, since you already have a pet rock."

"I told you, if you keep calling Shale a 'pet rock' one day she's might literally kill you."

"Ha! Her petty threats don't scare me-" Morrigan hiccuped and a small burst of flame billowed from her mouth. Despite the obvious dangers, the also drunk Aedan instead burst into laughter. He hugged Morrigan and rocked back and forth, with the witch giggled alongside him.

"No, the pet rock likes me better," slurred Aedan. He swatted aside Morrigan's hand to replace it with his own over the rock. Their hands competed to see who would have dominion over the work, both slapping and pinching the other get their opponent off of it. As he petted the rock with his hand and simultaneously fended off Morrigan's attacking hands with his other, Aedan cocked his head to the side and asked, "What's his name?"

Morrigan shrugged. This simple act threw off her balance, and the witch fell onto to her side, laughing as she did.

"Teharel! Give him a name!" shouted Aedan at the tree whilst he pulled Morrigan back up into his lap. The two turned in unison to the tree. The tree gave no response save for the rustling of it's leaves. Aedan waved off the tree. "That's a terrible name. You're drunk, Teharel."

"What'd he say?"

"Reginald."

"Booo."Morrigan gave a resolute thumbs down. She starting slapping Aedan softly on the face again."You think of one yet?"

"Why can't you think of one? It's your pet rock."

"What happened to _our_ pet rock? Take some responsibility."

"Fine." Aedan racked his brain for names, but before he could get a single thought in, Morrigan tugged on his cheek again.

"Hurry up."

"Stop nagging me, woman."

"I'll stop when you hurry up."

Aedan snapped his fingers together repeatedly, a name on the tip of his tongue. "Kieran. Let's call him Kieran."

"Kieran." Morrigan leaned her head against Aedan's shoulder. Everything was spinning and she just needed to rest. Her head hazy and cheeks flushed from whiskey, Morrigan leaned back against Aedan's chest. "Kieran," she whispered to herself, letting the name roll of her tongue. A small smile flickered across her face.

"Tis not a terrible name."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes<em>

Sorry about the long delay...Witcher 3 came out...so yeahhhhh. I just beat it, so I've had more time to write. Hoping to get the next chapter out soon, maybe even in a few days.

WolFang1011: Glad you liked the all the conversation last chapter. Hoping you'll like this one too.

Serithus: Landsmeet is coming very soon, I think maybe the chapter after the next. Stay tuned!

Urazz: More teasing this chapter! The last few chapters I really wanted to bring Aedan's past into the forefront, both bad parts and embarassing.

C0rrupted1: If Aedan survives, I'd would expect to do at least the Witch Hunt DLC. Perhaps even if he doesn't.

Bloodwolf432: Shoulda thought of that one!

mordreek: Hopefully you like this chapter too.

deathwing316: Greatly enjoyed the new DA. I'd highly recommend buying it- it feels a lot more of a sequel to DA:O then DA2 did (but I still love DA2).

Lone Reaper-068: Thanks! His self-dilemnas are really something I wanted to focus on to make him a more human character, so I'm glad you liked it.

SgtGinger: Glad to see you reviewing again! Aedan's journey of self-discovery was to me always one of the main purposes of writing this fic, though these lighter chapters have been fun to write.


	61. Comrade

**Part 7: Strength**

_Chapter 61: Comrade_

"Not making the same mistake this time," repeated Alistair to himself. The templar made his way down the hallway, a sense of dread creeping down his spine.

"Hurry up and get them, breakfast is almost done cooking!" shouted Oghren from the kitchen. Alistair half wondered if Oghren would create the most disgusting gruel in the world, or perhaps be some sort of savant at cooking.

Alistair paused in front of Aedan's door, then put his ear to it. Beyond the breeze that flowed through the halls, Alistair heard nothing. The templar sighed in relief. No moaning of Morrigan, no bed shaking, nothing. Out of consideration of Alistair (clearly Aedan's idea), in the two weeks since the incident at the Alienage, Aedan had redirected Alistair to a farther room. Subsequently, Alistair had not heard a peep of the other two during their nighttime activities, and had not had to deal with it in awhile.

Alistair's knuckles halted in front of the door. What if Aedan was sleeping? The man already had enough slumber problems, he didn't need Alistair to aggravate them. Alistair gulped. What if Morrigan was sleeping? Maker, the witch might burn him alive if he woke her.

Perhaps it might be better to simply just open the door. They were either sleeping or just lying in bed awake. Alistair inched open the door slowly, as to not make the door creak. "Aedan? You awake?" he whispered. Alistair poked his head through the crack in the door.

"MAKER NO!"

* * *

><p>A sole drop of water dripped from the pitcher Erlina had placed in the early morning. The elf returned into the kitchen with a bowl of cut lemons. She paused at the unusual scene: Aedan, Alistair, and Morrigan all sat around the dining table, hands on their heads and looking down at the table. She peered at each of the unmoving people once over, set down the lemons, and hurried off. Erlina shot the three a confused look as she departed.<p>

The sound of something sizzling on the pan and Oghren's humming filled the silence. After an eternity of staring down at the table, Alistair poured a glass of water then pushed it towards Morrigan. The witch did not move for awhile. Finally, her hand reached for the water, but as her fingers closed around it, Alistair squeezed a lemon wedge in there. The witch's face twitched. Still not making eye contact, Morrigan clasped her hand around the glass and downed it.

Alistair glanced up and saw as Morrigan's throat moved up and down as she swallowed the water. The templar put his closed fist to his mouth and struggled to keep the vomit down. Aedan remained with his face buried in his hands.

Oghren waltzed into the room with an oil stained apron. "Alrighty! Pans all warmed up. Who's ready for some sausage!" announced Oghren. A sickened groan crawled out of Alistair's mouth. Alistair bolted up in his chair and marched out. Oghren set down the pan and rubbed his hands together. "More for me," he grinned. The dwarf took the pan, slid some onto Aedan's plate, some onto Morrigan's, and a substantially larger portion onto his. The dwarf opened the kitchen door and entered the garden outside. "Dog! Get over here. Got a little something for you," he shouted, closing the door behind him.

Aedan rubbed his face and eyes with right hand. As he leaned on his elbow, the hand slowly slid down his face, his forehead coming to rest on his palm. The warden took a deep breath, a bite of Oghren's sausage, and sighed. "This is not going to make my day any easier."

"You can just do what I do," said Morrigan, "ignore the templar. It makes my day so much easier without him looking over my shoulder and grumbling about something I've done."

"Today...I was going to ask Alistair to become king and marry Anora."

The witch paused mid-bite."You want to put _him_ in charge of the country."

"Yes."

"The man too stupid to even knock."

"...Yes." Aedan's fork scraped against the porcelein as he skewered the sausage. Just before he took a bite, Morrigan poked her nose near his mouth and took a whiff.

"Really? You think I'd have to be drunk to make that decision?"

"At the very least." The witch groaned at him. "I'm never touching that liquid again, after that dreadful...what did you call it?"

"A hangover."

"Ah yes, a morning after with headaches and puking? No thank you."

"You wouldn't enjoy pregnancy then."

Morrigan's fork clattered on the table. "What did you say?" she breathed, her eyes darting at Aedan. Her heart quickened. _There's no way he knows about-_

"My sister-in-law, Oriana," muttered Aedan through a mouthful of sausage. The warden held up his finger, finished his chewing, then swallowed.

"Right, yes. Forgot about your sister-in-law." Morrigan stilled her breathing and concentrated her gaze back to her good. She held her hand over her heart to check her pulse had died down.

"Sometimes my brother had to take political trips, so I ended up taking care of her a lot. I still get queasy whenever I see a bucket and snickerdoodles. Maker, she really craved for snickerdoodles. One time I was late with them and then she pulled out a-"

As Aedan turned to her with a smile, his eye caught a little dab of sweat on the side of Morrigan's forehead. His eyes widened and his smiled faded. His heart skipped a beat. "You're not-"

"Of course not," said Morrigan in as calm a voice as ever.

The warden wiped his forehead with his arm and sighed in relief. "Good..that would have been-"

"Excuse me." In a fashion similar to the templar, Morrigan bolted up out of her seat. Instead of marching out, she walked out in a controlled, slow pace.

Aedan crooked his head out into the hallway to see where she was headed. A flash of light burst through the hallway, and the flap of wings greeted his ears. "Really doesn't like children, does she," mused Aedan.

With no one else around, Aedan quickly slipped out his flask and brought it's familiar opening to his mouth. A single drop rolled out onto his tongue. The warden frowned. Out of the corner of his eye, sunlight glinted off the remainder of Teharel's gift of whiskey, standing on a nearby countertop. His fingers drummed against the table. Aedan itched the palm of his hand and glanced at the bottle again. How long had it been since his last drink the previous night? His foot tapped incessantly as he counted on his fingers. Too long, he thought.

"Just enough to get through the day," muttered Aedan under his breath. He swiped the bottle, refilled his flask, then poured himself a glass.

* * *

><p>The buzz of his morning glass wearing off, Aedan made his way to the courtyard outside, where Alistair swung his sword about. His strikes rung against the wooden training dummy. Aedan took a set on the house steps and watched for awhile.<p>

"Pivot your hips a bit more. You'll get some more force in that way," remarked Aedan from behind.

"Gah. I always forget that." Alistair tried striking the dummy again, and much louder sound rang out. He wiped off his forehead with a dirty rag, flung onto a nearby bush, and sat down next to Aedan. His fellow Warden offered him some bread, and the templar took it without question. The two sat there munching on their snacks without a word, until finally Alistair said, "I didn't really expect she'd do that. She seems so...finicky."

"How about we not talk about this particular topic?"

"She really swallowed her pride, am I right?" laughed Alistair whilst he elbowed Aedan in the side. As the templar turned to himexpecting laughter, he instead saw a pale, wide eyed look on his friend's face. Alistair's words played back in the templar's head, then his eyes widened as well.

"Never let her hear you say that if you want either of us to live."

"We never speak of this pun again."

The two finished up their respective bread loaves. "What's she up to anyways? Lately you two have been inseparable."

"For once, I actually don't know. I'm not going to pretend to understand half of what she does."

"Probably gathering herbs for some weird ritual or something."Alistair licked the crumbs off of his fingers and asked, "So, what's up?"

Aedan sighed and rubbed his temples."Alistair, I'm going to say something. Now, I can either rip the bandage off quickly or do it long and painful."

"Hmmm...I dunno. Sometimes Wynne puts my bandages on too tight, and they end up squeezing into my flesh, so I want them out quick." Alistair tilted to the side and scratched his chin. "But then again, when the bandages are all stuck to your hairs, especially if there's also blood caked in-"

"Fuck it, we're ripping it off." Aedan took a deep breath in. "I want you to marry Anora and become king," he breathed out, almost too rapidly to hear. The templar furrowed his brow, mouthing the quick sounds Aedan had just blurted out. His eyes lit with recognition and his face twitched. Alistair forced laughter out of his lungs. "Maker, I really needed that!" said Alistair, wiping away a tear. "After that whole debacle, oh you know me too well."

"Oh Maker, you're not joking."

The warden shook his head. "I'm not joking."

"Are you serious?" Alistair stared at him, hoping his friend's blank expression would betray something: a joking smile, a saddened quiver,a guilty twitch. Aedan simply stared back his friend until Alistair, holding his head between his hands, shouted, "First off, marry Anora? She's Loghain's daughter? Let that sink into your head for a moment. Secondly, me? King? Think about what you're saying. Really think about it. Me?" Alistair pointed to himself over and over again and nervously laughed, "KING?"

"I have thought about it. You'd be the best choice."

The templar threw his arms in the air and exclaimed, "Let Anora have the throne. She wants the damn thing!"

"She can't do it alone. The people may love her, but-"

"Uh, yes, she can! She did for five years after Maric died!"

"That was different. Half of Ferelden has been blighted. That isn't just casualties, Alistair. Farmlands have been lost. Roads and trade have been devastated. Our armies are depleted. After we kill the Archdemon, it's only the beginning. This country needs a strong leader they can look up to. "

"Strong leader? Me?" Alistair looked around in both directions. "Are you talking about me? Because it seems like you're forgetting I've never led before. Why, just why, would you ever think this was a good idea? Are you drunk again?"

"Listen to me," said Aedan, "You have the strongest claim to the throne-"

"No, you listen to me!" Alistair grabbed Aedan by the collar and shoved him up against the wall. Aedan's fist tensed, but Aedan ignored his instinct and didn't raise it. Instead he met Alistair's cold and glaring eyes. "I thought you were my friend! I thought you'd understand! I have hated my blood since the day I was born. I wasn't ignored, no, it was worse, I was treated like I wasn't even supposed to fucking exist. Isolde made me sleep in the stables like an animal." Alistair threw his arm out and pointed into the distance. "Eamon shipped me away like a pack of dirty laundry!"

Alistair quieted. His grip on Aedan's collar loosened. His other fist, clenched by his side, shook. He took in a slow, steady breath."And I know exactly why they sent me to the Tower of Ishal," he said, his voice quiet and trembling, but his words came out in a slow, awkward pace, as though if he let them out too quick the rage would overtake him."Instead of letting me fight by Duncan's side- they wanted to preserve me, like some sort of chess piece. I was the spare, the backup, the unwanted child."

Alistair released his grip on Aedan's collar and took a step back. "I'm not Maric. I'm not Cailan. I'm not Anora. I'm not…"His eyes glanced away from Aedan. "I'm not you."

Aedan's heart twinged. In Highever, Alistair had told him that he had come to terms with Aedan taking leadership, that he was okay with. Yes, Alistair had comes to terms that he couldn't do what Aedan had done, but Alistair had never come to terms with what he himself could do. No one had ever let him shine. No one had ever treated his decisions as legitimate. They had only ever moved him about as a pawn.

Aedan waited until Alistair's breathing had slowed. The templar stared down into the dirt, and let his back slide against the wall. Aedan sat besides him against the wall. He opened his mouth to say something, paused, then remained silent a little while longer. He looked up at the clear blue sky and watched the birds flying free in the air. Finally Aedan spoke, "You have a right to be angry. I know your blood has given you a shit life before this, and I'm not asking you to let go of that anger right away. Nobody can just let go of things like anger in one day. I'm just asking you to, for one second, look past it."

"I know you're not Maric. I know you're not Cailan. I know you're not Anora. I know you're not me- but I'm going to tell you the same thing you told me in Highever."

Aedan placed his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "That's okay."

"You're not a rebel prince liberating his country. You're not a pampered prince eager to jump into battle. You're not a shrew politician. And you're not...whatever the hell I am."

"You're your own man. If you don't want to be king, then that's your choice, and I'll drop it- but if there's even a small part of you that can look past your anger, look past your doubt, you'll see what I see- and it's not the legacy of Theirin blood, nor the legacy of the Wardens."

Aedan's voice softened and warmed."I see the man who fought by my side and helped me get this far. I see the man who tried to ease my burden with jokes. I see the man who cared enough about my happiness to help bring Morrigan back to me. I see the man who helped bury my family when I couldn't." He patted Alistair once more on the shoulder."That's the kind of man I want rebuilding Ferelden."

He peeked once at his cohort's furrowed brow and forlorn frown. Aedan stood back up, dusted off his pants, and made his way towards the door."That's it," said Aedan, right before he stepped through, "I'll give you some time. Whatever you choose, I'll respect it."

* * *

><p>After a rather large lunch, Aedan lazed about in the greeting room, drifting in and out of sleep. The warm sun hit him from the window in just the right way, and for a second he felt like a kid again. He rolled over on his side, burying his face into the ripped sofa. His mother used to always tell him never to play on the leather sofa, lest he make any rips or spills. It was one of their best, and the one they had political guests come sit on whenever they were in town. His upper body hung over the side of the sofa. He saw a familiar glint in one of the partially-opened drawers next to him- his old bag of marbles. Aedan strained to reach over without leaving the sofa. With the tip of his finger he latched onto the strap of the bag. He tugged a bit on the bag, but with one tug too forceful, the bag ripped on the side of the drawer. The marbles came tumbling out and rolled about the living room. Aedan scowled as he got up to pick up the marbles, which for some reason seemed to roll away from him just as he got near to pick them up.<p>

Just as one marble threatened to be lost forever out the doorway, Alistair stepped in and stopped it in it's path with a single foot."Lost your marbles, finally?"

Aedan shook his head as he shuffled on his knees to gather up all the marbles."Really going full force with those puns today, aren't you?"

"You're no pun."

Once Aedan had gathered up all the marbles back into a new bag, Aedan held the bag up to Alistair."Want to play?"

The templar scratched his head."Never played marbles before," he said, "Used to watch kids play it, but I was a templar then and I don't think they would have appreciated me playing."

"Usually I'd play outside...but fuck it." Aedan lifted up the nearby rug, carved a light circle into the wood below, then placed several marbles inside."So, put your knuckles to the ground, put a marble in your hand, then shoot with your thumb to try and knock one out of the circle. If it gets knocked out, you get to keep the marble. Whoever gets the most wins." After setting up the game, Aedan demonstrated with one marble by shotting it into the circle. He cursed beneath his breath as it missed it's mark.

"Would have expected you to be training or something," remarked Alistair. He put his knuckles on the ground, squinted at a nearby marble, and shot one at it. The marbles bounced off one another out of the circle. The templar rubbed his hands together and collected both marbles.

"Landsmeet is tomorrow, should rest. We'll probably have to fight someone or something, knowing us."

"Cloudy with a chance of demons, right? It is about that time of the week."

"Something like that."

"Really didn't expect you to own marbles. Thought you'd be more of a toy sword kind of guy."

"Seriously, what is with you people thinking I was born with a sword in hand?" Aedan tried once more to hit one inside the circle. He distinctly remembered being better at this- he kept putting too much force into it. Too much sword swinging had taught his muscles to do more rather than less. For once, however, his shot made it's mark. Aedan flicked the marbles over to himself and began his own little pile. "My brother and I used to play all the time when we were young. Sometimes I'd even play with his son. Orlesian glass makers made these ones. Got them on my seventh birthday."

Alistair brought one up to his eye. "Oh yeah, this one's got a green swirly thing inside, with some sort of white sparkles- how'd they manage that.?"

"When it comes to fancy things with no practical use, Orlesians have that covered."

Save for the clinks of marbles bouncing off each other, the two made no more noise. One by one the marbles clattered out of the circle until only one remained. Alistair with a substantially larger pile of marbles than Aedan, much to his chagrin. Alistair peered over the remaining marble,

"I'll do it," whispered Alistair.

Aedan turned to him."You're sure?"

The templar sighed and leaned back one hand."Of course not..part of me wants to be on the road adventuring...but that life's not always what it's cracked up to be. Even then, I think even if I was on the road, knowing that I could have helped make a difference on the throne, I wouldn't be able to live like that." Alistair rolled marble between his fingers, staring deep into it's swirly depths. He let it roll into the palm of his hand. His fist closed around it. "I don't want to be that guy anymore, running from responsibility- and if you think I'll do a good job, then I'm trusting you."

"Don't worry, you'll do great, if your skill at marbles is any indication." Aedan couldn't help but frown at Alistair's larger pile. "You're sure you haven't played this?"

"Don't see the problem, you just shoot one marble at another." The future king shrugged. "Pretty straightforward."

"I keep overshooting-"

Aedan flicked his marble at the scarlet marble in the center. His shooting marble grazed the side of it and veered off to the side of the room, whilst the one in the circle rolled about near the edge of the circle. Aedan leaned in and watched the marble roll slower and slower to the edge, until it finally stopped right before it. The warden threw his arms up into the air.

Another marble shot from the side right into it, sending the last marble flying to the other side of the room. Alistair pumped his fist in the air and grinned."Another round?"

"Sure, buddy." Aedan scooped up the surrounding marbles with a small smile.

* * *

><p><em>Author's notes:<em>

New chapter yay and it didn't take forever this time. Thanks to all of those who left reviews, and as always, feel free to review, ask questions, or leave constructive criticism. See you soon.

**deathwing316**: I am fairly sure the developers have said we'll be touching on something dwarven/deep road related for DAI dlc, so here's hoping! The next one looks to be major, as they've recorded new bard songs and Leliana dialogue.

**mordreek**: Glad you like the dialogue- I always try to imagine the characters talking in their voices before I submit the final version, just to make sure everything seems right.

**C0rrupted1**: I'd like to imagine the conversation Morrigan has with him when she explains his name.

**Darth Hawk 32**: Of all the words I'd use to describe my update schedule, consistent not one I'd call it haha. Glad to see you review for the first time, and hope you've enjoyed the ride so far.

**Serithus**: Yay, you d'aww'd! I was going for d'aaawww.

**Guest**: Funny you should mention that. After Warrior is finished (whenever that is), I had a good idea for my next fic to be DAI. I have a very different sort of personality for the MC in mind that would be interesting to write. Still up in the air though as I ponder some other ideas as well.

**Prof. Omnom**: That last scene actually came to me right before I submitted it, and I knew I had to write it in no matter what. Glad you liked it!

**Urazz**: He'd have to compete with that pet rock for his parent's affection.


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